


Cuil Eden

by Esteliel



Series: Anestel Universe [1]
Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003), Lord of the Rings (Novel)
Genre: BDSM, D/s, Kink, M/M, Mpreg, Non Consensual, Piercing, Slavery, Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-14
Updated: 2011-01-27
Packaged: 2017-10-02 17:58:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 192,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esteliel/pseuds/Esteliel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legolas learns that despite the events told in "Anestel", life continues. But shall he always stay little more than Glorfindel's slave, or might there be true happiness for him after all? A visit to Lothlórien brings many revelations for him and Glorfindel both... (Sequel to Anestel)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapters 1-10

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://s127.photobucket.com/albums/p134/Esteliel/?action=view&current=cuileden.jpg)   
> 

1

Legolas was impatient. He had just nursed their son who was now sleeping peacefully in his cradle next to the open window once more. Just yesterday Legolas had written another letter to his brother, and the tome of poetry Glorfindel had given to him some days ago did not tempt him anymore either after he had read most of the poems for two or three times.

There was nothing left for him to do in their chambers, and it made Legolas feel nervous. He wanted to go outside, feel the wind on his skin, breathe the fresh air, but he did not dare to do this alone. He had already spent an hour doing the exercises Thalaron had shown him which were supposed to slowly build up his mucles and return the strength to his body which he had los due to his pregnancy and all the events surrounding it, but that was already several hours past. He did not want to lie down and rest either, he had been forced by both Elrond and Glorfindel to do so during the last months and was now certain that he had slept enough to last him for the next year. But what was he supposed to do then?

Of course he could always go and find Glorfindel. The elf had told him that he needed to look up several things and so would work in the library, and Legolas was sure that the Noldo would appreciate it if he were to bring him some refreshment. Perhaps Glorfindel would allow him to go and visit Lainiell then, or at least give him some new books to read. Of course, Glorfindel might also be in the mood for a different activity altogether, but as that was an occurence Legolas had grown to expect every minute he spent with Glorfindel, that was not enough to make him stay in this room, all alone with his sleeping son and his boredom.

Yes, Legolas decided, he would go and visit Glorfindel then. One more time he stepped up to the cradle, but his son was still sleeping peacefully and so Legolas decided to leave him there. On his way out he took an apple and a pear with him, then knocked at the door on the other side of the hallway where temporarily a female elf had moved in, a Noldo named Alwaeniel. Glorfindel had chosen her to be a nurse for their son, but in fact she was only seldomly needed. Having grown up without much contact to his father and his brothers himself, Legolas was determined to keep his son as close to him as possible and so he only asked Alwaeniel to keep an eye on their son when he went for his daily exercises or - like now - wanted to visit Glorfindel. She was a gentle and friendly elf who loved children and so often cared for the young elves of Imladris when their parents had other obligations, but Legolas was still wary of all Noldor. Like so many other times he only asked her to look after his son for an hour or two and then quickly left before she could try to start a conversation with him. Still, despite his lingering distrust of all Noldorin elves he knew that he could trust her to care for Gîlríon and so he went to the library hoping to find Glorfindel in a good mood.

The library was one of the biggest rooms whose dimensions almost rivaled those of the Hall of Fire, but after all Elrond was known as a master of lore and had collected a vast array of scrolls and books from all of Middle Earth during his long years. The library was usually considered the realm of Erestor, but every time an assignment made Glorfindel spend his days at one of the old tables, foraging for a particular scroll, Erestor would find a distraction in some other part of Imladris. Today this was the case as well but still Glorfindel was not alone in the library which Legolas found out as soon as he had opened the door. Glorfindel had been amidst a conversation with Elrond, but when they heard the sound the door had made they turned around and stopped talking.

"I am sorry my lord, I did not want to disturb you!" Legolas stuttered and tried to quickly leave again, but Glorfindel's voice stopped him.

"No pen-neth, come, we were talking about you anyway..."

Legolas sighed softly and entered the library again, slowly making his way towards the table where Glorfindel and Elrond were seated.

"I just wanted to bring you something to eat.." he tried to explain, feeling a little embarassed to admit this while Elrond was watching him.

"Thank you, roch-neth... You are right, I was growing hungry since I did not think to take something to eat with me." Glorfindel smiled at Legolas and took the pear, then wrapped an arm around Legolas' waist and pulled him onto his lap which made Legolas blush and lower his eyes.

"You have regained most of your strength, haven't you, little one?" Elrond then asked, eying the body of the youth. "Thalaron told me that he wants you to join the guard's training from next week on -- one hour in the morning, one in the afternoon. I think that you are strong enough for that now, there should be no problems. If you experience any unusual pain come to me immediately, though I do not think that this will happen."

Legolas nodded meekly while Glorfindel stopped eating the pear and smiled at Legolas. "That is indeed good news! Once you are more experienced with the sword I will train you myself, but until then you will have a very good teacher in Thalaron."

"But we were talking about other things before you arrived here, cunneth..." Elrond said and gave Glorfindel an almost teasing smile before adressing his seneschal more directly. "Do you not think that he should know as well what I just told you?"

"Yes, of course, I'm sure that he will like to hear this... we were discussing your fertility, roch-neth." Glorfindel smirked when he saw Legolas blush as soon as the words had left his mouth. "You know that I will make you carry more of my children, don't you?"

Legolas nodded, not trusting his voice. Of course he knew, Glorfindel had mentioned this often enough during the first months of his stay here, but ever since he had given birth to Gîlríon the subject had not been mentioned again and so Legolas had thought that he would be granted at least a little respite. Apparently Glorfindel had decided differently though, and Legolas felt despair grow inside him. Did this really mean that his fate would be to give Glorfindel child after child until the Noldo grew weary of him?

"Right now I think that it is enough for you to look after our son and learn how to use a sword, you grew so weak during your pregnancy that I would fear for the health of a future child," Glorfindel continued and pretended not to notice the way Legolas' eyes widened with surprised relief.

"I'm not yet quite sure if the herbs a woman would use to prevent a pregnancy would work for you as well, but right now your body is not ready to conceive anyway, and I think that as long as you continue to nurse Gîlríon you will be safe. Afterwards... perhaps I will know more about your body's reacction to those herbs, or perhaps Glorfindel will want to sire another child then."

"Yes, after all I enjoy watching you grow with my child," Glorfindel mused and gently caressed Legolas now-flat stomach. "First though, you will train with our guards and grow more secure with a sword. Do not look so worried, child, I already told you that you have no say in these matters, it is for me to decide..."

"Of course, my lord..." Legolas said and lowered his head so that his hair hid him from Glorfindel's eyes. "I will concentrate on my training..."

Elrond had to try hard to stop from sending Glorfindel a knowing smirk. After all he knew why his seneschal wanted to wait, he had betrayed his true feelings when they had almost lost the young Sinda during the birth. It would not do to tease Glorfindel while Legolas was there as well, but Elrond was already thinking about when he would meet Glorfindel without the youth... perhaps it was time to have another conversation, now that their child was born and Legolas was growing stronger each day.

"I will leave you to your work now," he said and stood up. "And... please remember that there *is* work to do. You can play with the princeling once you are back in your own rooms, but I really need that report this evening."

"You know me, my lord, I always do my work. And this is only an incentive to work faster, so I can return to my rooms and ravish my little prince there."

Once again Legolas cursed his traitorous body as he felt the heat of another blush and then Glorfindel's hands on the inside of his thighs, slowly stroking him there as if to remind him about who would claim him in some hours.

"The report, Glorfindel!" Elrond said again and then continued "And do not begin something here which would make Erestor come running to me, wait until you are in your rooms or at least somewhere where the more sensitive member of this house will not see you."

"Of course, my lord!" Glorfindel agreed and waited until Elrond had left the room to slip his hand into Legolas' leggings.

~~~~~~~~~

cuil eden = (a) new life

pen-neth = young one

roch-neth = colt

cunneth = princeling

~~~~~~~~~

2

Still a little breathless and his lips swollen from when Glorfindel had made him kneel for him, Legolas returned to their rooms. With a smile and a few shy words of thanks he released Alwaeniel from her duty and seated himself at the window, close to where Gîlríon's cradle stood. His son was awake now, he seemed to greet Legolas with a few cooing sounds and then again turned his head into the direction of the garden where the song of birds could be heard.

"Do you like their song, gîl neth?" Legolas asked with an affectionate smile. Watching his little son always made him feel so full of warmth and love, made everything he had to go through so far worth it, and yet he was still a little afraid of the responsibility this brought with it. After all he knew only too well how the actions of parents could affect a child, and he was determined to save his son the emotional pain he had lived with all through his childhood. No, his son would always know how much he was loved, Legolas would make sure of that. The only thing he could not be sure about was Glorfindel... what kind of father would the Noldo prove to be?

"No matter what happens, he will never hurt you, I will not allow it," he promised his son. Still, so far Glorfindel had seemed so happy and proud of their little star, and after all this was what he had wanted from the beginning on, an heir to continue his line and to carry the name of his house...

"You will make him proud, little one, you will be a warrior one day like he is... and I can only hope that you will not hate me for my weakness then."

Gîlríon cooed again, almost as if he were trying to comfort Legolas, and then fell asleep again. The young Sinda smiled a little wistfully. Would his son one day be able to understand what he had done for his sake? He hoped so... but perhaps things would change in the next few years. After all Glorfindel had now even allowed his training as a warrior, perhaps he would one day stop treating him as a possession and his son would never know of his pathetic past?

Legolas sighed and then looked out of the window once more. Glorfindel had allowed him to take another book from the library, but at that moment the youth had been far too distracted to really choose and so he now had another old, heavy tome with a long and most probably dark and hopeless lay of an ill-fated love with him. With his own life so complicated Legolas did not desire to read about other dark times, but when the time passed far too slowly until Glorfindel would return, he finally began to read it nonetheless.

The unbridled energy apparent in the way the door was opened was enough to make Legolas immediately realize that the goldenhaired lord had finally returmed to his rooms once more. Yawning and leisurely stretching Glorfindel divested himself of his heavy velvet tunic before he crossed the room to where Legolas was still sitting with his book.

"Have you been reading all this time, pen-neth?" he asked and laughed softly when Legolas nodded. "Ai, I am happy that you are so studious, and yet I think it would be more conductive to your health if you would spend more time out in the sun."

"I would like to spend some time with Lainiell, my horse..." Legolas admitted softly, "but... you know what happened the last time." The moment the words left his lips he began to regret them. He had just admitted that he was afraid, that he was too weak to stand up for himself! Surely Glorfindel would laugh at him now... but instead the Noldo smiled and drew him into his arms.

"Do you not trust me? I promised that no harm will come to you, for you are mine and I protect what belongs to me. You gave birth to my child, little one, nobody here has the right to hurt you."

"And yet those two Noldor were threatening me," Legolas answered sullenly.

"Because they perceived you as weak, child!" Glorfindel patiently explained. "Do not pout, you know it is the truth, you are old enough to know how to defend yourself, and yet you have not been taught so. This makes you an easy victim, and you are of Sindarin blood as well, son of Thranduil who has so long been our enemy -- it is no wonder that there is hate! Still, you have begun to train with weapons and surely you will soon be able to defend yourself against something like that without my help."

Legolas nodded, he did not dare to voice his doubts... but he wanted to believe Glorfindel, he wanted to believe that one day he would be like his brothers -- strong, independent, somebody no stable-hand would dare to accost.

"And if you want to see your horse, we can go for a ride, I am sure Asfaloth would like that as well."

Those words immediately raised Legolas' mood, the young Sinda was beaming at Glorfindel until he remembered something. "Can you wait a few minutes? Gîlríon has been asleep so far, surely he will wake soon and be hungry then."

"Of course I can wait."

Glorfindel smiled and raised one hand to tenderly comb through his young lover's silky hair. "Come, sit on my lap so I can feel you," he requested and was immediately obliged, the so tempting soft little mouth now far too close to be resisted. For several long minutes he did nothing but taste every corner of Legolas' mouth, explore again and again what should be so familiar by now and yet always felt like discovering this pleasure for the first time. He only stopped when Legolas had relaxed against him, moaning every so often while his swollen, moist lips surrendered to Glorfindel's passionate explorations, submitting and returning caresses with sweet hunger. "Ai..." Glorfindel finally sighed. "Sometimes I think that I desire you too much... if we keep this up, little one, I think that our horses will miss their exercise."

"And our star will have to go hungry."

Indeed Gîlríon was watching them, making soft sounds of excitement as he raised his small arms in Legolas' direction.

"Ah, we cannot have that, can we? Our little star will get whatever he desires..."

"And one day he will be a spoiled big star," Legolas answered but had already open his tunic and now took their child from the cradle, holding it tenderly against his chest. Glorfindel smiled as he watched the small mouth nuzzling against Legolas soft chest, searching until he finally latched onto the plump nipple and began to suckle noisily.

"Mmm..." Glorfindel purred. "I like watching you nurse our son. It makes me hungry for your taste... perhaps I should just keep you pregnant?"

Legolas was blushing and frowning at the same time. "But Elrond said that I would not get pregnant while I'm nursing him!" he said, visibly unhappy with Glorfindel's suggestion.

"Yes, but you heard what he said, he has no experience with male pregnancies as they are confined to your line exclusively... and you seem to be more fertile than a female. After all no female would have gotten pregnant if I had taken her like I took you at that lake -- you did not want to conceive, did you?"

"I did not even know I *could* conceive!" Legolas muttered.

"So you see, if you can conceive although you do not desire so, why is it not also possible that you can conceive so soon after Gîlríon's birth? There is much Elrond does not know, your house has always made a secret of this, so there will be no other option for you than to wait... and really, you know that I want more children, what difference does it make if it happens now or in some years?"

Legolas lowered his head, his eyes turning distant."You are right, my lord..." he said sadly and then stayed silent. He did not want to voice his complaints, not when Glofindel was in such a good mood and had even promised to take him riding, but still he did not have to like these news. Sometimes he felt like a victim of a curse, his body constantly betraying him... why was it that a female only got pregnant if she and her bonded both wanted a child, and yet he could get pregnant everytime somebody claimed his body with no regard given to his feelings? And why had his father never told him about this?

"Stop brooding, little one!" Glorfindel chided. "Come, sing something for our little star and for me, and I promise to show you my favourite waterfall later on."

Legolas sighed and tried to smile, his voice rising in a gentle hymn although he still could not chase away his gloomy thoughts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

gîl neth = little star

pen-neth = young one

~~~~~~~~~~~~

3

Sitting on top of his horse, his hands buried in Lainiell's mane and his legs pressed to her warm flanks as they raced up a hill, Legolas felt for the first time for months completely free and happy. With a loud shout of delight he urged her to run faster and she immediately complied, stretching her lithe body to stay ahead of the white stallion which came thundering after them. For a while the brown mare managed to stay ahead of Asfaloth, but despite the fact that his rider was far heavier than the slender youth on Lainiell's back, the stallion continuously gained on her and finally overtook her just before they reached the hilltop.

"Not fair!" Legolas complained but he he was still laughing, his eyes bright with happiness as he patted his horse's neck.

"Why is this unfair?" Glorfindel raised a brow, smiling himself. It was good to see Legolas like this, flushed with excitement and filled with youthful exuberance. This was the way Legolas should look like, not pale and depressed like he had looked for far too long already. But then, that was his own fault... it was him who had locked the child up, took his freedom and his happiness away. There was only himself to blame for the young prince's condition... Glorfindel sighed as he watched Legolas slide from his mount's back, only to hug her again before he let her free to have her fill of the sweet grass.

"It's unfair because she did not have any training, I have not taken her for a ride for months! So you see, this does not count!" Lgolas answered with an impish grin.

"You are right, it does not!" Glorfindel declared. "We will just have to repeat this more often so we can have a fair contest one day."

"Really?" Legolas stared at him with wide eyes. "You mean it? We will go riding again?"

"Of course we will!" Glorfindel felt a little remorse as he noticed how surprised Legolas was. Had the young Sinda really thought that he would keep him locked up in his rooms for the rest of his life? "You need to be outside more often, it will help you to grow stronger... and if you do not mind my company I will gladly accompany you if I have the time. I think that my Asfaloth here can use a little challenge... you're getting slow, old friend!"

The white stallion snorted angrily and used his head to push Glorfindel away before he wandered off to have his share of the grass. Glorfindel laughed, then held out his hand to Legolas. "Come, I promised to show you my favourite waterfall, didn't I? It is not far from here."

It was not far, but the path which led to the secluded fall was well hidden, even for an elf the site was impossible to find if one did not know what to look for. Never had Glorfindel taken any lovers there, it was a private place which only he, Elrond, the twins and Erestor knew of. Many years ago this was where Elrond had taken Celebrían when they wanted to flee from the burden of being the Lord and Lady of Imladris, now the half-elf shunned the fall and the painful memories it brought.

Although the path was less travelled now, Glorfindel was still able to lead Legolas through the thicket of newly-grown bushes and weed until they finally reached a gathering of tall rocks. They were already able to hear the sounds the water made as it rushed down from a place somewhere above them, and when they had finally climbed the rocks, they found themselves directly at the entrance to a small valley. A clear lake covered the bottom, fragrant flowers blooming at its sides and even some trees had managed to grow despite the limited space. At the other end of the valley, the water came out of an opening in the rock and cascaded down into the lake, breaking the light of the sun so that several small rainbows sparkled amidst the silver mist.

Legolas stood still for several minutes, taking in the beauty before him. Glorfindel had been right, now he could understand why this was his favourite fall. It might be smaller, less spectacular than those other falls Imladris was famous for, but this place with its unexpected, hidden beauty spoke to him with voices he had last heard when he was alone deep inside the Greenwood. This was the beauty of untouched nature, of a place that could exist this way only because very few knew of it and took care to never disturb its peace.

"Do not tell anybody about this place," Glorfindel cautioned. "Lord Elrond used to come here in order to think, and Erestor comes here for only the Valar know what."

"And why do you come here?" Legolas asked curiously.

Glorfindel was silent for a while. Finally he sighed. "Its beauty touches my heart. It is... it is like being back in Gondolin. There was a beautiful, secluded place like this there as well, it was a favoured meeting place for lovers, or friends. Of course it did not look like this, but... the atmosphere is the same. It radiates calmness, serenity. It makes me... yes, when I am here, I think I understand why my life ran the way it did. Why I am here now. And I know that I would make the same decisions again..."

Legolas was silent, he did not know what to say. This was a side of Glorfindel the Noldo had kept hidden so far... he had never shown Legolas any weaknesses, had never revealed too much of his emotions and thoughts. Legolas had of course been curious about Glorfindel's past, about his famous fight with the balrog, his time in Mandos' Halls, but he had never dared to ask. But perhaps now would be the time...?

"You do not talk about it very often..." he began shyly. Glorfindel sighed and gave him a pained smile.

"No, I do not. It is the curse of our race to remember our losses for all of our long life... and that day, I lost everything. My city. My friends. My king. My warriors... all is gone, and there are not many left in Middle Earth who can still remember the beauty that was Gondolin. They ask me to tell them of my fight with the balrog, but nobody ever asks me to tell them of Gondolin, of the beauty, the hope that was destroyed that day. They only want me to remember the pain, the destruction, the loss -- so I stopped speaking about it at all."

Legolas was silent for a while, thinking about what Glorfindel had said. It was true, the Noldo had lost everything... it was a situation which was by far worse than his own. He might be exiled, but at least he knew that his family, his friends still lived. Yes, for him there was still hope, while Glorfindel could not hope to see the faces of his loved ones again until he finlly decided to leave for Valinor.

"Will you... will you tell me of it's beauty, then?" he asked and timidly wrapped an arm around Glorfindel's waist, leaning against the warrior's chest as he let his eyes take in the beauty of the small fall. "I have not been able to read much, and I would like to hear of the city, of your House -- if it does not wake painful memories."

"No, cunneth, it does not, or rather, I have learned to live with it. Come, let us sit down, and then I will tell you of the beauty of Gondolin and the courage of those within its walls. And if, at the end, you are not bored with my stories, I will bring you books from our Lord's library." Glorfindel smiled at Legolas' hopeful look and then began a slow retelling of the history of Gondolin, trying not to show how the youth's compassion had moved him. How could it be that after all that had happened to him he could still find it in his heart to share someone else's pain? This youngest prince of Mirkwood was indeed a strange creature... Glorfindel promised himself that he would take more time to reveal the secrets of this youth he had taken as his own.

~~~~~~~~~

cunneth = princeling

~~~~~~~~~

4

One week later, when Legolas had once more been forced to leave their son to Alwaeniel's care so that he could go outside for his first day of training with the guards, Elrond waited until he was alone in his room with Glorfindel to once more start on the topic of the young Mirkwood prince.

"How was your day yesterday?" he tried to find an innocent opening for their talk. Immediately Glorfindel turned to look at him, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"What do you mean, how was my day? Elrond, I have not seen you fail so terribly at smalltalk since the last time I was forced to take a seat directly next to Erestor and he managed to spill his wine on me."

"Why this instant suspicion, my friend?" the Lord of the house inquired with an amused smile. "Am I not allowed to inquire after your day? No, wait," he then interrupted Glorfindel's answer with a raised hand, "indeed there is another reason for me to inquire after this than mere concern about your well-being. I wanted to talk with you about Legolas."

"Is something wrong with him?" Glorfindel immediately asked, "Or did you find out more about those herbs you were talking about?"

Elrond shook his head. "No, it is not his health I want to talk about. I was thinking about his situation -- about your situation." His smile had left as he studied the face of his friend carefully. "Tell me, what would you call him? Your Mirkwood whore?"

"No!" Glorfindel immediately protested with anger in voice, then glared at Elrond when the Noldorin lord again raised his hand to silence him.

"But some weeks ago, you would not have protested. And you know that this is what everybody thinks he is. They call him slut, toy, a slave to be used by you as a breeding mare."

"Stop it, Elrond!" Glorfindel said angrily. "I know what you are doing, believe me, I was thinking about this myself tonight! It is my own fault, I know it very well, there is no need for you to provoke me!"

"Ah, but who says that I am trying to provoke you?" Elrond smiled, still amused by the reaction his words had wrought. Of couse this was why he had chosen them, but to have his suspicions so easily confirmed...

"Do not toy with me, my lord! I am no child, indeed, I am much older than you!"

"And still sometimes you behave like a youth who is scared by what his heart tells him," Elrond injected calmly. He rested one hand on Glorfindel's arm, watching the emotions mirrored in the golden elf's eyes. "Be at ease, my friend, I do not want to judge or accuse you, I only wanted to show you what I see as the problem in your situation -- in our situation," he amended. "And I can see that you have become aware of it as well, otherwise you would not have reacted as you did."

"Then stop this game, tell me what it is you want to tell me." Glorfindel sighed, suddenly feeling tired. He had spent several hours thinking about Legolas, about the effect the youth had on him, and he still did not know what to think. There were too many sides to this problem, too many old hurts... and despite the calm outside Elrond presented, he knew that his friend had to be aware of them as well.

"I wonder what he means to you, what you see as his future... so far, his status here has been that of a plaything to amuse you. Do you want to keep him like this? In 50 years, when your son reaches his majority, will Legolas still be lying naked in your bed, ready to be used by you as if he were a soulless thing?"

"Stop it, Elrond!" Glorfindel was breathing heavily, lowering his eyes. "I am not a monster, you know me that well, my lord! Do I seem to you like a cruel human who only finds pleasure in rape and torment? Legolas is not fading -- he has submitted to me of his free will, has accepted to be mine! In all those long years you have known me and my ways in the bedroom, have you ever seen one of my lovers fade?"

"Please, Glorfindel, I told you I did not want to judge you, I only want --"

"No, Elrond, you are judging me! Why this sudden change in you all of a sudden? Do not forget that this is Legolas Thranduilion! Thranduil's son! How often have we fantasized about what we would do if we only could get our hands on one of his heirs! What would you have done?"

"I would not have kept him," Elrond admitted softly. "My fear would have been too great... fear of the hate he arouses in me, fear of this darkness which makes me want to hurt him... These are dark times, and sometimes I fear that we all have strayed too far from the light already. But this is not about your tastes, my friend, this is about your fears, about the hate everybody of us bears and about the fragile peace we have finally achieved. I do not ask this lightly of you, but I think that some things will have to change - for your sake as well as his."

"What do you want me to change? It is not in my power to force our people to love the son of our enemy!" Glorfindel answered heatedly.

"No, it is not, but I think that you are already on the right way... after all, why do you let him train with a weapon? You cannot fool me, this is not simply because you fear for the safety of your son!"

Glorfindel sighed. "No," he admitted. "He is so frightened, so vulnerable -- his father truly did everything to make him into the perfect prey. I like his dependency, yes, I admit that freely, but at the same time I also feel pity. He cannot stay a young child for all his life, he has to mature. Perhaps it is because I would soon get bored with having him like he is now for more than a few years, but perhaps it is also..."

"Compassion?" Elrond finished. "Ah, perhaps then not all is lost, perhaps we will be able to shake this bitterness, this darkness..."

"But what do you want me to do, my lord?" Glorfindel asked now almost pained. "Are you asking me to -- to love him? To bind myself to him? I cannot do that, you know it well."

"No, I do not ask that of you." Elrond shook his head, sighing. "Binding yourself to a nameless child, not even in his majority yet, an exile who had to leave his home in shame -- this is not what I would wish for you. But still it cannot continue this way, not if you truly feel compassion for him. You know as well as I do that he cannot stay a prisoner here for all of his life. Right now he submits to you because he is afraid for both himself and your son, but his soul continues to suffer and he will eventually fade when his son no longer needs him. It is not in our nature to bear hate and rejection for a long time."

Obviously unhappy, Glorfindel stared into Elrond's impassioned eyes. "I know, my lord, but what would you have me do? I already--"

"Yes, I know, you give him more freedom now, but this is not what I mean. This compassion you speak of, this worry about him, yes, even this freedom you allow him -- I have never seen you act like this before. And it worries me, Glorfindel! I do not want to see you hurt -- and you would be hurt if he left you, either by fading or running away. Do not bother to try to conceal this, I can see it in your eyes when he is close to you! Be careful that you do not push him too far -- he is yet young and malleable and could easily grow used to being yours."

"He is already mine," Glorfindel muttered but lowered his eyes when Elrond continued his lecture.

"Yes, but for how much longer? I would have you keep him if that is what you desire -- not only because it pleases me to see Thranduil humiliated but also because I want to see you happy. So take care my friend, do not hurt him too much or you will lose him eventually."

Clearly Glorfindel was not entirely happy with the way this conversation was going, but still he bowed his head deferentially. "I will be more careful, my lord," he answered. "Still, you cannot change that he is a Sinda -- it will take a lot more for our people to forget their hate of his people."

"It will not change overnight, but change it eventually will," Elrond said firmly. "From now on he will be treated differently -- I want to hear no more comments about what he does at night in your bed. He will not be called a whore or a slut at my table, he will be treated like a prisoner of rank -- even if he has no rank at the moment."

"Ah!" Glorfindel said with an amused smile on his face as he suddenly realized the reason for Elrond's unusual interest in what happened in his bedroom. "So this is what you are aiming for... you think that one day he will be restored as a prince of Mirkwood?"

Elrond's answering smile was equally amused, his eyes sparkling with the contentment of a cat who had just caught a mouse. "Think about it, Glorfindel... how would you like it to have the youngest prince of Mirkwood bound to you? To have his royal blood flowing in the veins of your heirs? It would be a bond most valueable for the continued peace between our realms."

"Ah, it would please me to see Thranduil forced to give his blessing to such a union!" Glorfindel sighed. "But it would take more than a millenia to make him agree to this..."

"Do not be so sure of that, there are always ways! It might happen one day -- and until then you should make sure that the child does not grow to hate you. He is yours, I do not want to take him away from you, but if you want to play with him, do so in your rooms or somewhere where you won't be observed."

"Of course, my lord." Glorfindel bowed again as this was obviously the last Elrond had to say on this. When a servant knocked and came inside with another handful of messages that had to be read and answered, he used the chance to leave the room. There was a lot he had to think about now... but first he had to listen to the reports of today's patrols. And then... perhaps he would pay a visit to the training grounds and see what progress Legolas had made.

5

For days Legolas had been afraid of his first training together with the other elves. The loathing and disgust he seemed to inspire in Noldorin elves was something he could observe daily, be it at Elrond's table or encounters with lowly servants. He did not even dare to think what kind of behaviour his sudden appearance would inspire in a group of guards, of warriors who had after all been trained for the war against his people! So when he finally had made his way to the training grounds it was with only badly disguised apprehension, his mind running through nightmare-like scenarios of how this training might resemble his encounter with the two stableboys in the garden. After all, there would be no Glorfindel here to save him...

But instead of pairing him up with several Sindar-hating guards to practise hand-to-hand combat which would then lead to a lot of bruises and even more painful humiliation as Legolas had feared, Thalaron took him to the side of the field where several strange-looking wooden constructions stood. They consisted of one big pole which was deeply embedded in the ground and had at seemigly random intervalls bars branching out from it like a poor imitation of a tree. There were at least 20 of those strange constructions and most looked battered, with places where the wood was starting to splinter. Legolas had no idea what they could be used for, but Thalaron finally solved the mystery when he took a wooden practice sword and raised it to stroke the highest branch with an elegant, effortless move wich made the whole construction shiver. Legolas was then to repeat it while the Noldo kept criticizing his stance until he was finally satisfied and showed him two more moves. Again more criticism followed until Thalaron was finally satisfied and left Legolas to practice the three moves by himself while he returned to the other elves. They seemed to be more advanced than Legolas and did not need to use the constructs, instead they wore heavily padded armor and had short bouts with the same wooden swords Legolas had to use while Thalaron yelled orders at them.

When the hour of training was finally finished, the other elves used a small stream to clean themselves, several of them simply jumping in to start a small fight in the water, others peeling off their sweat-soaked shirts to empty a bucket of cold water over their head and chest. Legolas as well yearned for the sensation of the clean water against his overheated skin; although his workout had been less exhausting than what he had seen the others doing he was still covered with sweat, his muscles sore from the unfamiliar movements. Yet Legolas did not dare to follow the example of the Noldor; he was too afraid of their eyes and the derision it would surely bring were he to undress and so display his still so strangely changed body. Nevertheless he felt hot and dirty and did not want to stay this way...

Finally he knelt down at the side of the stream, away from where the waterfight was still taking place, and used the cold water to wash his face and hands. After the exertion of the past hour the cool liquid felt heavenly and Legolas wanted nothing more than to undress and immerse himself fully in the water.This was not possible though, not if he did not want to make himself even more vulnerable to the jokes and loathing of Imladris' population than he already was. After a final fearful glance in the direction of the other elves, he nevertheless dared to open the laces of the white shirt he wore so that he could splash some of the water against his chest, sighing with relieve at the wonderful coldness. Several times he repeated this, always shooting furtive glances in the direction of the bathing Noldor. And just as Legolas had feared it did not take very long until they became aware of him once more.

  
“Look, Glorfindel’s little pet thinks that he’s too good to bath with us,” one of them said maliciously.

  
“Perhaps he’s just afraid of us!” another answered, and then Legolas who had already begun to lace his shirt closed again with trembling fingers could hear the sound of splashing water. Legolas began to panic. This was what he had been afraid of all along... but he could not run away now, could he? This would only reassure them in their belief that he made an easy victim...

  
And then it was too late and Legolas felt a hand on his shoulder, pulling him down into the water, and when he came up again he found himself surrounded by six youths. Barely older than himself it was nevertheless clearly visible that they had already passed several years of the hard training under Thalaron.

  
“Well, little Sinda, don’t you like being clean?” one of them asked with feigned curiosity which made the others laugh.

  
“Yes, come, undress and bath with us...” another suggested, curiously eyeing Legolas’ bared chest. “Do not pretend to be so coy, we all know that you are well used to displaying yourself!”

  
“Yes, you’ll enjoy it,” another of the nameless, darkhaired youths grinned. “Gondir here is even bigger than Glorfindel – he’ll really make you scream!”

While the others were laughing at that Legolas tried to find a way out of the circle. “Leave me alone!” he finally said, glaring at the Noldo whose eyes were still lingering on his chest. “I do not desire to be close to any of you!”

“Ah, but that’s a lie, why are you here then in Imladris if you do not like what Noldorin bodies have to offer? Come...” the first one purred, running his hand over Legolas’ chest, “if Glorfindel wants you trained, we’ll train you in something he’ll have a better use for than weaponry!”

“Do not touch me!” Legolas hissed and slapped his hand away. “It does not concern you what I am here for or not! You have no right to touch me against my will!”

Again one of the youths snickered. “But who will stop us? You?”

“Yes, I will!” Legolas felt rage take over, driving away the fear which had held him paralyzed before. Why did everybody here think him weak, a perfect victim? It had not been his choice to end like this! And before he had to surrender to even more Noldor, he’d at least try to resist first...

With a growl Legolas lunged at the youth closest to him, pushing against him with all his strength so that the Noldo found himself falling back into the water before he had even realized what was happening. “Leave me alone!” Legolas shouted once more, defending himself against another pair of hands that wanted to grab him as he tried to use the opening to escape from the water. Then, just as those hands managed to pull him back into the range of the other Noldor, a stern voice interrupted them.

“What is this? Did I not tell you to hurry and clean up?”

All of a sudden Legolas was free and as he turned around, he found himself directly in the line of a disapproving glare. Thalaron, still clad in his impeccable captain’s tunic, stood at the side of the stream and simply watched as the young Noldor quickly left the water and hurried to put their clothes back on. Finally Legolas was the only one left in the stream, but Thalaron did not seem to want to acknowledge his presence or what had led to this conflict as he adressed the group again. “Come one hour earlier tomorrow, since you all seem to have too much energy – I’ll make sure that you will be sufficiently challenged by tomorows training! And now hurry, you still have to clean and bring back your equipment!”

Muttering softly the youths returned to the field where wooden swords and padded training armor were still strewn about. Legolas sighed and followed them. His clothes were soaked now, the simple white linen shirt so wet that it was translucent, but Legolas would rather clean the field in the company of the Noldorin youths than invoke Thalaron’s wrath.

6

When Glorfindel arrived at the training grounds the lesson seemed to be over already. A group of youths was gathering swords and armor from the ground and bringing them to the small building which held the training gear. He could see Legolas in that group as well, carrying a wooden sword and yet keeping away from the others youths.

Well, it was to be expected, Glorfindel told himself, of course it would not be easy for Legolas to be accepted here. Still, he hoped for their sake that they had not tried to bodily harm his little prince – while he knew that Legolas would be faced with a lot of aggression, that was one thing he would not allow.

“Glorfindel,” he heard a familiar voice greet him and found that Thalaron had left the youths to their work so he could talk with him. “Are you here to see what progress your little rabbit has made?”

Glorfindel shook his head, laughing. “Ah, what progress could he have made after a single day? No, I was more curious about the reaction of the other youths, and about how Legolas chose to behave. It is difficult, to be all alone amidst a group of enemies...”

“Yes, indeed,” Thalaron sighed. “And at that age they have too much energy but no real experience... they will not make it easy for him.”

“Glorfindel!” another, younger voice called out, and one moment later Legolas had joined their group, smiling at Glorfindel with obvious relief. “What are you doing here? Are you already finished with the patrols?”

Glorfindel stared at Legolas, pure hunger in his eyes. He could see Legolas’ body outlined by the wet, clinging garment, could see the soft swelling of his chest, his dark nipples hard and visible through the shirt. Wet hair clung to his face, his eyes were alight with excitement... it had been some time since he had last seen Legolas look so alive.

“Perhaps you have some time later to continue our conversation?” Thalaron asked tactfully.

Glorfindel nodded quickly. “Yes... you can join us for tea this afternoon, if you have the time... ?”

When the captain nodded, Glorfindel sighed in relief, then smiled at Legolas who had blushed with embarassment. Glorfindel’s eyes had reminded him once more of the state he was in... tomorrow he would have to remember to bring a towel, or be quick enough to escape those Noldor.

“You look like you are in desperate need of a bath,” Glorfindel said, not even trying to hide the arousal he felt. “And I think I need one, too – come, at this time of the day we can enjoy the heat of the public baths for as long as we want.” Then he took Legolas’ hand and pulled him away, followed by Thalaron’s amused gaze.

~~~~~~~

Legolas kept silent as he followed Glorfindel into the public baths. They seemed to be alone; the baths were usually frequented in the mornings and evenings, and now that it was noontime the great underground hall with its steaming pools was deserted. Nevertheless Glorfindel chose one of the smaller pools situated at the back of the hall. They were designed for privacy, walls at both sides kept it seperate from other small pools similar to it and a curtain could be used to cover the entrance.

Usually Glorfindel never bothered with those small pools, he was not ashamed of his body and saw no need to hide behind a curtain, instead opting to use the main pool where other warriors were a source of conversation and rumors. Legolas on the other hand would surely not appreciate having his nude body displayed should some other elf decide to have a bath at this time.

And after all it was not only the desire to clean his body which brought Glorfindel here. No, he wanted more than that -- he wanted his little prince. Had wanted him since he'd seen him in those simple training clothes, the wet leggings displaying the slender body so temptingly. He was flushed from the exertion, his hair wild, the scent of sweat and grass clinging to his skin. Glorfindel had to have him, as soon as possible. He had been half hard since he'd met him on the training field, and he surely would not wait until they had returned to their quarters. No, he had to have him now!

"Come, roch-neth, undress me!" he ordered. He was not able to hide the hunger in his voice and knew that Legolas had realized what he wanted of him. A light blush coloured Legolas' face and he took care to close the white curtain behind them before he stepped closer to Glorfindel. By now it was a familiar experience for Glorfindel to have himself slowly divested of his clothes by those careful, slender fingers. Nevertheless, it still aroused him to see Legolas blush, see him shyly avert his gaze. Sometimes Glorfindel wondered that the youth could still be so innocent after all he had done to him -- but perhaps it was this what had made him keep his interest. Legolas' innocence was not something which could be stripped away like his clothes, it could not be destroyed by taking possession of his body night after night.

No, Legolas still exuded youthful innocence, and Glorfindel felt himself drawn towards it. He hungered... yes, he hungered for the taste of his skin, and now he would take what was his.

Legolas had by now reached the lacings of his leggings and dropped graccefully to his knees so he could pull the garment down. It was a sight Glorfindel thought he would never stop to relish: the golden hair smooth like silk against his thighs, the fingers trembling ever so slightly as they helped him to step out of the leggings, and the soft mouth so temptingly close to his hardness...

Glorfindel knew that it would take only one small word by him to have that mouth enclose him in wet heat. But no... this was not what he wanted. No, he needed more...

He turned away from the tempting vision the kneeling prince presented. "Undress yourself, then join me," he said huskily and stepped into the hot water. At the other side of the small pool the rock was cut so that one could sit there comfortably, still partly immersed in the water. Glorfidel sat down there, sighing in pleasure as he watched Legolas quickly undress and then follow him into the water.

"Closer, pen-neth..." Glorfindel purred when Legolas stopped in front of him. He took hold of his hand and pulled him so that the Sinda found himself seated on his lap. "So, since this was your first day of real training, I think you have earned yourself a little reward... let me wash your hair, and afterwards, perhaps I'll rub some oil into your skin to soothe your sore muscles."

"Thank you, my lord," Legolas whispered. His body was already reacting to being so close to Glorfindel... he did not know how to fight this. And fighting would not help him anyway, not when he could feel that Glorfindel was already hot and hard, each small movement rubbing the swollen length along the crease between his cheeks.

But apparently Glorfindel really desired to wait for he stayed true to his promise and carefully cleaned Legolas' hair with a fragrant soap. It drove Legolas' crazy... all the small movements, the intimate touches had quickly made him grow as hard as Glorfindel, and by now he no longer even thought of fighting against this desire. He wanted the Noldo, needed him, and apparently Glorfindel finally realized that as well.

"Tell me, cunneth, what do you want?" he asked playfully, his hands running down Legolas' sides to his thighs, spreading them wider.

"I want you, please!" Legolas moaned. "Please, I want to feel you inside me!"

"Yes..." Glorfindel purred and dipped his fingers into one of the bowls which stood at the side to the pool. "Yes, I want that, too..." Quickly he coated his hard length with the oil. "Come, sweet prince, if you want me, then take all of me inside you, impale yourself on me!"

Legolas was almost trembling with lust when he watched Glorfindel stroke himself. Then the Noldo leaned back, his arms along the side of the pool, and simply grinned. His erection rested against his belly, glistening with oil, growing impossibly bigger when Legolas wrapped his fingers around it.

Glorfindel groaned softly but did not move. He remained motionless, simply watching as Legolas used one hand to spread his cheeks while the other steadied Glorfindel's hard length. Then he sat down, gasping as he forced himself to open for his lord. It hurt, oh, it still hurt, but he needed, needed even more... with a soft cry he pushed down again, impaling himself completely. "Ah... so good!" he gasped, his fingers clenching around Glorfindel's arms to steady himself.

"Yes," the Noldo agreed breathless, his eyes closed as he fought against the desire to move, to simply slam up into the youth's body. But no... not this time. "If you want more, roch-neth, you'll have to work for it!"

Legolas whimpered in answer, his eyes fluttering shut. Slowly he raised himself a little, then sat dow again, moaning when he felt the head of Glorfindel's member brush against the gland deep inside him. "Oh..." he breathed and repeated the movement, forcing a groan from Glorfindel.

"Come on, move, little prince!" the Noldo gasped, barely able to restrain himself, and all of a sudden Legolas realized what he could do. Without doubt Glorfindel had chosen that position to subdue him even more, to have Legolas take an active, voluntary part in his own submission, but... there was also another side to this game Glorfindel was playing. For the first time Legolas realized that he also held power over Glorfindel.

Heat filled him at this thought, aroused him even more. He rested his head on Glorfindel’s shoulder, purring into his ear. “But I do not wish to move, my lord...” he whispered seductively. “I want to feel you like this, filling me so completely, so deeply... ah, you are so thick, my lord, so hard! You are burning me!” His words were accompanied by the slightest of movements and he could feel that it drove Glorfindel crazy. Oh, could it be... that he even had the power to make Glorfindel beg now?

“I wish I could stay like this for all eternity...” he breathed, flicking his tongue against the tip of Glorfindel’s ear. Then he began to move again, slowly writhing on Glorfindel’s lap while he kept his mouth close to the Noldo’s ear, moaning and gasping without restraint.

Glorfindel stayed motionless, his arms still resting on the edge of the pool, but finally he could no longer resist the vision of the shameless, wanton creature before him, he just had to touch him... slowly he ran his hands over Legolas’ shoulders, his sides, feeling him tremble with every small movement. Then he brought his hands around to stroke the soft, milk-filled chest, tease the swollen nipples until Legolas gasped and shuddered. Glorfindel smiled slowly. Oh, he knew what game Legolas was playing... but he would not stop him, not yet. There would be time later... and there were also other ways to make the youth stop his teasing!

He lowered his head to gently start caressing one nipple with his tongue. It made Legolas whimper and clench around him which in turn aroused Glorfindel even more. He bit the hard nub non too gently, forcing an indignant squeak from the Sinda. Glorfindel only grinned at him and pushed his hips a little upwards to show what he wanted, then again returned his attentions to the overly sensitive bud, soothing it with his tongue only to finally take it between his lips and suck harshly. Legolas cried out, arching up as all his muscles spasmed and he achieved a sudden climax so intense that afterwards he hang limp and trembling in Glorfindel’s arms.

The golden-haired Noldo was groaning as he swallowed a mouthful of Legolas’ sweet milk. His swollen shaft was squeezed by Legolas’ contracting muscles and as much as Glorfindel would have liked to prolong this even further, he could no longer fight against what his body ached for. Once, twice he bucked up hard, pushing forcefully into Legolas until he finally stiffened and released his seed deep inside the Sinda.

For long moments only their loud breathing could be heard, then Legolas finally slid down from Glorfindel’s lap, leaning against him with a tired sigh. Glorfindel raised one hand to tenderly stroke his cheek, smiling as Legolas turned his head to meet his eyes.

“Do not think that I don’t know what you tried to do, roch-neth,” he smirked. “It’s nice to have you be more active, but I think you have forgotten a few things... I’ll remind you of them tonight. Now up with you, I want to finish a report before Thalaron comes.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

roch-neth = colt

cunneth = princeling

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

7

Later that day when Glorfindel was finished with his work, Elrond came for a visit. Legolas was sitting in the window, the sun was shining brightly outside and warmed both him and his son. He had with him another collection of poetry Glorfindel had given him and now softly sang to his son while Glorfindel was putting his writing utensils away.

When they heard the knock at their door, both were startled to see that it was Elrond who appeared in the study and not one of the servants. It was very uncommon for the Lord of the valley to choose this time of the day for a visit to his seneschal’s rooms; although the Peredhil and his golden-haired warrior often shared stories and memories over a glass of wine in their private quarters, their workload usually only allowed them time for this after the evening meal.

“My lord!” Glorfindel said with a smile on his face at seeing his friend, yet he was clearly surprised at the unusual occurence. “I just finished the report and would have brought it to you in a few minutes, there was no need for you to—“

“Do not worry,” Elrond chuckled, “I did not come to harass you about your paperwork. No, I wanted to ask if you would like to join me for tea in an hour, I will have it served on my balcony. I would like to talk with you – you can bring Legolas as well if you want.”

“I would be honoured, my lord,” Glorfindel answered, then remembered his captain. “I was planing on meeting with Thalaron though, we wanted to talk about a few things...”

“Oh, it does not matter, he can join us, I would be glad to hear his opinion on something. That is, if whatever you wanted to talk about is not something you want to keep secret from me?”

Glorfindel smiled at Elrond’s teasing. “Of course not, my lord, I will make sure then that your invitation reaches him.”

Elrond nodded, pleased with the answer. Then he stepped further into the room, heading towards Legolas who had been distracted from their conversation by tiny fingers curling around a strand of his hair.

“And you, little one? Are you well?” the Noldo asked and raised Legolas’ face so he could look at him.

Legolas blushed. “Yes, my lord,” he answered, then stopped speaking and stared nervously up at Elrond. He had never bothered about dressing again after the bath and was still only dressed in the soft white robe since it would be easier to feed his son this way – and there was also the punishment Glorfindel had threatened him with. Legolas was sure that an elaborate dress would not be a needed ingredient for whatever Glorfindel had in mind, but now he regretted that he had not put on other clothes as he felt very vulnerable now.

“You are singing the poems of Arúniel to your son?” Elrond inquired, clearly amused. Arúniel, an elf maiden of noble birth who had lived and died in Lindon long before Legolas was born was often a favourite of young elf maidens – or those who tried to court them. Each of her poems spoke of love in such a way that more experienced elves could not help but feel amusement at the naïveté of the depicted emotions. “Do you like her poetry?” he inquired, his amusement growing as Legolas’ blush deepened.

“Yes, they are very beautiful... I was never given books like this in Mirkwood.” Legolas sighed as he remembered the long and boring history lessons he had to attend in his childhood. His grandfather did this, Gil-Galad did that, this was wrong because it injured elven law, then there were the thousands of reasons for and events during the war... he had hated those lessons. “Glorfindel gave several of her books to me as a gift,” he explained, smiling happily as he hugged the leather-bound volume to his chest.

“Did you, now...” Elrond said, turning back to Glorfindel to regard him with raised eyebrows. His old friend actually did him the favour to blush.

“He likes her poems and needed something to do when he had to stay in bed after the birth,” the golden-haired elf tried to explain, but the expression on his lord’s face showed him that he was not very successful. Glorfindel sighed as he tried to reconcile himself with the fact that now his lord had somehing to tease him with for the next few centuries – after all they had spent many evenings making fun of her poetry, and now there he was, listening to Legolas sing those very poems to their son.

“When he is finished with them, perhaps you should let him read those books Erestor wrote for the lessons of the twins?” Elrond said. “If he likes reading so much, he should further his education. “

Legolas could barely suppress a groan. If those book were anything like Erestor himself... no, he would rather stay with poetry, history books always began to bore him after the first few pararaphs.

At least Glorfindel seemed to share his opinion for he rolled his eyes und uttered an “Of course, of course...” while pushing his report into Elrond’s hands. Elrond seemed to realize that his proposal did not meet with much enthusiasm and finally decided to leave their room again, still shaking his head. “I will send a servant to Thalaron’s quarters then, do not bother,” he added before he closed the door behind himself.

„Do you want me to accompany you, my lord?“ Legolas asked curiously, setting the book down so he could sit up with Gîlríon still cradled carefully in his arms.

“Yes,” Glorfindel decided.”I will enjoy having you close – especially after I’ve given you the punishment you’ve earned yourself earlier.”

“Oh” Legolas said softly, looking down at their son. “You want... now?”

“Yes, now,” Glorfindel said slowly, a hungry smile spreading over his face as he focused his attention on the youth. “Ai, I wonder what I shall do with you... so many possibilities and so little time! But then, I will have an eternity to play with you and teach you all the ways to please me...

Legolas shuddered at Glorfindel’s words, heat spreading through his body. Slowly he got up, his robe falling open and baring one shoulder and part of his chest. He pressed a gentle kiss to his sleeping son’s head, then looked up again. “Where, my lord?” His voice was soft but he was glad that it did not tremble.

“Are you afraid that our star will know that you have earned yourself a punishment? Ah, you should not worry, he is still far too young for that,” Glorfindel said patiently. “But I will bring him to the nurse, she will look after him while we join Elrond for tea.”

Legolas nodded. He was glad for this small mercy. Their son might still be too small to know what was happening around him, but nevertheless he would not be able to bear this kind of humiliation knowing that their son was close by. Still he hesitated for a moment before handing Gîlríon over with a sigh. He did not like to leave him in the care of a nurse, it reminded him too much of his own childhood and he did not want their son to ever feel that he was not loved and wanted.

“Do not fear roch-neth, I will tell her that if he gets hungry or upset, she has to bring him to us immediately.”

“Yes, thank you, my lord,” Legolas sighed and kept his gaze on his child as Glorfindel carried him out of their room.

“I will be back immediately, you can undress and lie down on our bed,” Glorfindel said, and Legolas took a deep breath before he entered their bedroom. Glorfindel did not seem very angry – and in the pool, he had seemed more amused than enraged. Perhaps it would not be so bad, Legolas tried to tell himself, perhaps he would not hurt him so much. But no matter what he chose to do, Legolas was sure that it would leave him humiliated, once more aware of his place as Glorfindel’s toy and nothing more.

8

Legolas had spent only a few seconds lying on the cool silken coverlet when Glorfindel once more returned. The Noldo sat down next to him, one hand gliding over the smooth, pale skin of the youth’s back, traveling along the ridges of his spine, following the elegant line of his flanks down to where the perfect swell of his buttocks seemed to beg for his touch.

“You know why I’m doing this, do you?” he said gently. “It is not because you felt pleasure – I want you to feel pleasure. You are very beautiful to me when you are lost in passion like you were this noon. And it pleases me to see you become more active. Still, you should never forget one thing: You are mine. Everything we do is about my pleasure. It does not matter what you feel – if you do feel pleasure, be grateful that I allow it because it pleases me. Your situation could be much worse, little one, it would be very easy for me to make sure that there won’t be pleasure for you. So, remember this, remember your place and don’t try to play a game you do not understand. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, my lord,” Legolas said meekly. “I am sorry...” he added – not so much because he agreed with Glorfindel’s words but because he felt shame for his earlier behaviour. Was it any wonder that those Noldorin youths called him a slut? Today he had truly behaved like one, he should be happy that they had been alone and without any witnesses of his wanton behaviour. But at that moment it had felt so good, to know that he was not just something to use for Glorfindel, no, the Noldo wanted him, *him*... he could make him shudder, make him gasp and tremble if he wanted it. Glorfindel might try to deny it, but he did not only belong to Glorfindel, no, in turn the Noldo belonged to him as well.

Glorfindel smiled. “You are sorry? Don’t be... try to act as rebellious as you want, you know very well how I love punishing you. But I think that you are safe from my more creative methods today, after all Elrond awaits us in an hour. I’m sure that there will be another time though. Now come, lie over my knee for your punishment.”

Silently Legolas obeyed. So Glorfindel wanted to spank him again... he could feel the heat returning to his cheeks at that thought, and at the same time he also felt relief. This was not so bad, more humiliating than painful, at least when compared to feeling a belt or a cane. And perhaps Glorfindel would not be quite so forceful if he wanted him to accompany him later...

He flinched when he felt Glorfindel’s hand come into contact with his bottom. There was no force behind the slap though, all it did was to leave a tingling feeling behind. More of those not-quite-caresses landed on his skin, and to his humiliation Legolas felt how the situation affected him. Being totally at Glorfindel’s mercy like this, it should disgust him, but instead, he felt a spark of excitement in his belly.

“Come, spread your legs, child,” Glorfindel ordered and Legolas obeyed helplessly, shuddering when Glorfindel’s hand reached between his legs to grasp his slowly filling member. The Noldo sighed with appreciation when he was swollen and hard after just a few strokes, then his hands returned to caress the firm behind once more while he watched the youth wriggling, trying to find a comfortable position. When Legolas finally relaxed again, his member now hot and damp against Glorfindel’s thigh, Glorfindel let another series of slaps follow. He was still holding back, using only enough force to turn the pristine white to a blushing rose colour and only when Legolas began to move, to rub his hardness against his thigh with each slap Glorfindel increased their strength.

Soft, keening sounds began to escape Legolas’ lips, his fingers trembling where he held them over his head, his body helplessly accepting whatever Glorfindel gave him. Ah, was this what Glorfindel wanted to teach him? That even if he could tempt Glorfindel, it would never matter because Glorfindel had complete power over him?

He gasped, moaning with every slap, pushing back against Glorfindel’s hand, then rocking against the hard muscles beneath him. “Please...” he begged, feeling no longer shame at his complete surrender as once more he was overtaken by sensation.

“Yes!” Glorfindel purred and let his hand come down with even more strength, delighting in the loud slap of skin against skin. Legolas gasped and moaned without restraint as Glorfindel’s hand covered his buttocks and the upper part of his thighs, the rose changing to a light red. “Come for me, roch-neth nín!”

Legolas sobbed and rubbed himself against Glorfindel’s thigh, crying out when he was finally allowed release. Glorfindel smiled with amusement, his hands gently rubbing circles on Legolas’ back to soothe him through the last shudders of his climax.

“Shh, do not cry, little one,” he said gently and pulled Legolas into his arms, allowing him to sob against his shoulder. “Your eyes will be all red later if you continue like this... and it was not that bad, was it?”

“No, my lord,” Legolas said, still sniffling against his chest. “I’m sorry...”

“Do you even know what you are sorry for, sweet one?” Glorfindel asked with a patient smile. “This did not happen because you made me angry... had I been angry, you would be in a lot of pain now. No, I had to do this so that you would not forget your place. Tell me, little one, what have I just taught you?”

“That I belong to you, my lord. That it is you who decides whether I feel pleasure or pain. And, that... that...”

“That I am your master in all things.”

“Yes, my lord...” Legolas whispered, bowing his head.

Glorfindel smiled and kissed him, delighting in the sweetness of the soft lips against his, the way Legolas was clinging to him, exhausted and pliant. For long moments Glorfindel kept tasting him without hunger; he did not want anything more right now than this submission Legolas offered. It was sweet, more so because he knew what Legolas had to feel right now. The youth had to be confused at this reaction, his reaction to a punishment like this which had caused his body to feel more pleasure than pain. And despite his confusion he still surrendered and accepted Glorfindel as his master.

Yes, this was sweeter than honey to Glorfindel. Legolas’ trust, his tender touches and his complete surrender... it made him feel a warmth inside which he had missed for a long time. “Sweet child...” he sighed, running his fingers through Legolas hair. And the youth leaned into his touch and pressed small kisses to his face, almost as if he could even now not stop to apologize and show his remorse.

Finally Glorfindel pushed him gently away so that he could look down. Legolas’ soft member was still resting against his thigh, trails of his silvery essence were scattered all over his leggings and tunic. The Noldo chuckled and shook his head. “Look what you have done,” he said with a smile, “now I have to change before we meet Elrond.”

Legolas blushed. “Shall I clean you, my lord?” he asked softly and lowered his head, his tongue lapping delicately at a spot at the inside of Glorfindel’s thigh. The Noldo groaned, then shook his head.

“No, I would have had to change anyway, you know that Elrond prefers formal robes at his table.”

“Do you desire another thing from me?” Legolas breathed and pressed a gentle kiss to the bulge in Glorfindel’s leggings. “Tell me, my lord, whatever you want, my mouth, my hands...”

“Ai, you tempt me, sweet prince, but there is not enough time to truly enjoy you...” Glorfindel sighed, his eyes dark with passion. “I will wait, little one, wait until this evening to have you. There is one thing though you will do for me: I want you to use the time to think of how you will please me tonight. Think about what would give me the most pleasure and tell me tonight – make it worth to me that I have to wait so long!”

Legolas’ eyes grew wide as he thought about that challenge. What would Glorfindel like? It was a difficult assignment... but perhaps it would keep his thoughts off the stinging heat which now radiated from his buttocks. “I will try my best, my lord,” he answered and then carefully stood up to dress in a formal green robe while Glorfindel chose a light blue for himself.

  
9

************************

The table was already laden with cups and plates and all sorts of small cakes when they arrived. There were even some of the almond cakes Legolas so loved, almost as if the cook had known that today he and Glorfindel would join Elrond for tea. It should have made Legolas happy, even more happy than he should already feel for another thing had happened on their way to Elrond’s rooms. For the first time for months he did not have to wear Glorfindel’s knots of possession – the Noldo had simply stopped him in the corridor and then taken out the knots which told everyone that Legolas was his. He had chosen to simply ignore Legolas’ questioning glance and had told him in a matter-of-fact voice that the next time he would wear those knots, it would only happen after he had first begged him for it.

Which of course was something that would never happen, Legolas told himself with a little shake of his head. Sometimes he really wondered what strange thoughts Glorfindel’s golden head harboured. Why should he beg for something as demeaning and humiliating as wearing another person’s knots of possession? No, he was perfectly happy the way he was now... his hair flowing freely down his back, finally rid of the weight of those horrible knots. Not even another spanking would make him ask for this!

When they arrived at Elrond’s rooms, Legolas’ steps still light and energetic from this surprise, there was another unexpected occurence, although this was not a good one. Apparently Elrond had invited Erestor as well for the darkhaired advisor sat next to his lord, several books in front of him which he was just discussing with Elrond.

Legolas’ shoulders sagged and he sighed, loud enough to be heard by Glorfindel. But the goldenhaired warrior only rested one hand at the small of Legolas’ back and gently pushed him forward. The youth had no other choice than to step up to the valley’s lord and bow to him with lowered eyes, much deeper than his birth would have warranted, but then he had no longer any name or title and it was only Elrond’s kindness which gave him some sort of home here. “Thank you, my lord, for your invitation,” he said softly and focused his eyes on the embroidered neck-line of Imladris’ lord, refusing to acknowledge the disgusted, angry expression which he knew could be found in Erestor’s eyes.

Now Glorfindel stepped up to him though to lower his head in greeting of his lord. His arm slipped around Legolas’ waist and pulled him a little closer, and that gave Legolas enough courage to meet Erestors eyes with his own and not flinch back. He did not know what he had done to have Erestor hate him so, apart from being born to Sindarin parents, but he trusted that the presence of both Glorfindel and Elrond would keep the advisor from becoming too open in his loathing of him.

When Glorfindel and Legolas had sat down and Glorfindel had answered a few questions to the report finished a few hours earlier, Thalaron appeared as well so that now all those Elrond had wanted to talk with were gathered.

Legolas was still curious why Elrond had invited them all, and especially why he was allowed to come along. But then, he reasoned that his presence did not really matter, even if the lord wanted to talk about military or diplomatic matters. There was no way for Legolas to give this information away, and so there would be no need to deprive Glorfindel of the presence of his toy. A little morosely he concentrated on one of the wonderful little cakes while Elrond decided to begin with the real reason why he had invited them all.

“You know that Elrohir writes regularly to me,” he said, pretending to ignore the sudden stiffening of Erestor’s body. “He is getting along in Mirkwood as best as we could hope for given the circumstances, and you know that a lot of the recent developements were only possible because of his incessant endeavors to make Thranduil’s advisors see the benefits a steady and longer collaboration would bring their realm. I do not doubt that without his help Thranduil would not even have acknowledged our request for a prisoner exchange, much less acted on it.”

“Yes, he is doing extraordinary work there,” Glorfindel agreed. “Still I’m not quite sure if it is so good to have him continue staying there... I do not think that he is really safe there. Even with Thranduil’s other son in Lórien, it is still possible that some embittered Sindarin noble might decide that he does not like the current peace and attack your son.”

“He is old enough to handle situations like this by himself. This is what we have prepared him for after all – think, Glorfindel, if I were to die now, he and Elladan would be the Lords of Imladris and would have to face all those problems and more. No, Elrohir has learned all that he could here. This stay in Mirkwood will teach him many things we cannot; he is on his own there and has to face his problems on his own like any ambassador of our valley.”

Glorfindel sighed. “Very well, my lord. I do understand your reasoning, and I know that these are invaluable experiences which will help him grow into a fine lord of our people one day, but nevertheless I am concerned for him.”

“I know, my friend, and I understand where your concern comes from.” Elrond rested one hand on top of Glorfindel’s and gently smiled at his seneschal whose love for his twins was beyond all doubt. “And this is why I asked Thalaron to join us... tell me, captain,” he then turned to the other elf, “I would like to send four further guards to Mirkwood. And since both Galuchén and Merenir have a mate here in Imladris, I would like to have them return and their place taken by two other guards. Are there any you would recommend? It would be a good opportunity for some of the younger guards to get experience in situations like this, but choose somebody who has learned at least a little about diplomacy. I do not want to see some of these youths start another war there!”

“Of course, my lord!” Thalaron nodded. “There are some who I think would be fitting for this task, I will think some more about this and send you a list of names tomorrow.”

“I do not think that some more guards will suffice.”

It was the first time that Erestor contributed to the conversation, and although his voice was soft, it nevertheless carried an air of unrelenting conviction. “It is not simple strength which will help to keep Elrohir safe in Mirkwood. Send someone who will understand the dangers he daily faces, someone who knows the ways of a court.”

Glorfindel snorted. “You want him to send youself, Erestor? Have you finally decided to put Elrohir out of his misery?”

“No, not me!” Erestor glared at Glorfindel and Elrond sighed and shook his head.

“Stop, both of you! Glorfindel, let Erestor finish his sentences, and Erestor, did Glorfindel understand you right? Do you really want to offer yourself as an advisor to Elrohir?”

“No, that was not what I meant. If I left, you would be without any help, my lord, and I doubt that I would be a good choice to send to the court of that damned Sindarin king. I thought of one of the younger librarians, Arphen perhaps.”

Elrond nodded thoughtfully. “I will consider this... it might be beneficial to Elrohir although I do not know if Arphen is yet up to the weight such a position would mean for him. Bring him to my study some time tomorrow, I want to talk with him first.” Then Elrond turned to Legolas and smiled at him, deciding to forego matters of state for now. “In case you have wondered, little prince, there is a reason I asked for you to join us... I’ve got something for you!”

10

Legolas looked up in surprise at being adressed so suddenly. “Something for me?” he echoed, staring at the Lord as if he feared bad news.

Elrond chuckled. “Do not look at me like that, little prince, it is not that bad... I had Erestor bring me the books he wrote for the lessons of my children. I understand that your education so far has been rather fragmentary, and although your love for poetry is admirable I think that you should also further your education in other areas. These are books on the history of our realms and also of those of men and dwarves. I think they should suffice as a beginning... tell me when you have finished them, there are many more things which will help you to get a deeper understanding of Arda. For example languages... can you speak Westron? Khuzdul? Or what about Quenya? Tell me, can you read and write Valinorean?”

“N-no, my Lord,” Legolas said, clearly confused by these qestions. “I do not speak the languages of men and dwarves, but I had some lessons in Quenya as a child. I-I do not think that I could read an entire text in Quenya, though...” The admission of his ignorance made him blush, even more so when there came a snort of derision from Erestor.

“So not even the king’s own sons are taught? The ignorance of you Sindar is no wonder then!”

His cheeks were flushed with shame but nevertheless Legolas glared at Erestor. What did the advisor know of his life in Mirkwood, of his father? But he could not just tell him that his father had been too disgusted by the weakness which he must have shown even then to keep him at his court....

“Oh, I would not call them ignorant, Erestor, or have you already forgotten how often their tactics left us surprised and brooding over solutions deep into the night? No, Legolas,” Elrond then adressed the young Sinda again, “do not feel ashamed because of your lack of knowledge. Instead, work through those books I brought, and afterwards I will have you assigned a tutor to teach you Quenya and some other languages. Glorfindel, I think that you might even want to take up that task yourself, after all you are one of the few in this valley who grew up with that language.”

“Gladly, my Lord,” Glorfindel answered and rested one hand on Legolas’ shoulder. “But you know that my schedule does not leave me much free time, I do not know if I will be able to teach him regularly every day...”

“Yes, I know, and that is another thing I wanted to talk about. During the long years of this war you have worked very hard, Glorfindel, with almost no time for yourself. Now that we have finally achieved the peace we have longed for for so long, I wish to relieve you of some of your duties. I do not think it is neccessary that you ride out with the guards that often, once a week should suffice, don’t you think? I know that several of your captains have proven themselves to be more than capable leaders, you should give them more responsibilities and have more time to yourself. No, listen to me,” Elrond said sternly when he saw that his seneschal wanted to protest. “You have a family now, a little son. Spend more time with him, my friend. Now that we are finally in a position to enjoy the peace we wished for you should use this time... he is your first child, you should enjoy this experience as much as possible. Far too soon he will be grown and you will wonder how these years could pass so swiftly.”

Elrond’s words left Glorfindel silent for a moment which the golden-haired Eldar used to think about what his lord had just told him. At first he wanted to protest against what felt like a demotion, a dismissal to him. But Elrond was right... he was a warrior, and now that finally peace was achieved, he no longer had to dedicate his entire life to protect the valley. Of course the peace was far from perfect and they would have to continue to keep attention to the goings-on in Mirkwood, but nevertheless it would not hurt if he delegated several of his duties.

“Yes...” he finally sighed, “ you are right, Elrond. With the situation as it is, my presence is not needed all the time anymore – I will think about your suggestions, my friend, and then talk with my captains about it.” When Elrond nodded with approval, Glorfindel turned and smiled at Legolas, the fingers of the hand which still rested on his shoulder twining a strand of pale golden hair around them. “What do you say, roch-neth, do you want to learn Quenya? Believe me, all the poetry you have read will pale before the beauty of the Ainulindalë in its Quenya form.”

“Yes, my Lord, I would like that,” Legolas answered and smiled at Glorfindel. He had not thought that Glorfindel would be one to know and cherish the beauty of words, but then, he had given him the poems of Arúniel after all. Then the youth offered him another, more tentative smile. “And our son, I think it will make him very happy to be together with you more often.”

Elrond gave him a thoughtful look, then raised his eyebrows at Glorfindel without saying a word. He did not have to, his seneschal had also picked up on what had suprised Elrond. It surprised Glorfindel as well, but then, he knew what Legolas’ life had been like and how much Legolas had yearned for his father’s love. It was only natural that he would try to offer his son what he himself had never been able to have. Although this also meant that Glorfindel would not only have more time to play with his son, but with Legolas as well... Still, this seemed to be something Legolas was aware of since he blushed when Glorfindel smirked and pulled at the hair around his fingers a little too hard for comfort.

“Good, you shall have my company then, both our son... and yourself.”


	2. Chapters 11-20

11

A short while after the conversation had reverted back to political and military matters, a servant came to inform Legolas that the nurse had brought his son since he had begun to cry and could not be calmed again. Elrond, who knew how much work small children could be, reassured Legolas by telling him that their son was probably only hungry, and then offered him his bedroom to have some privacy.

Once Legolas had left them, Thalaron continued to discuss his impression of Mirkwood’s remaining army with Glorfindel and Erestor; as usual, Glorfindel and Erestor could find no agreement. Elrond himself was sure that regardless of what plans Thranduil still might have, right now it would take several months, if not years, to once again bring Mirkwood back to where they could risk open war.

Deciding to leave his advisors to their argument, Elrond left the balcony to go have a look at the young prince and his son. Apparently Legolas had accepted his offer to use his bedroom since the door which led there was left half-open. When Elrond entered his bedroom he found Legolas seated on his bed, reclining against the headboard with his son nursing at his chest.

Legolas looked up and when their eyes met, he blushed, his gaze involuntarily flickering down to his son and then back to Elrond who regarded him with an amused smile. It was obvious that Legolas felt uncomfortable about having him watch, but there was nothing Legolas could do about it since this was after all Elrond’s room. Not only did Elrond enjoy, on some level, seeing that look of humiliated embarassment in the Sinda’s eyes, he also felt the natural curiosity of a healer who for the first time encountered something that he had before only rarely found information about. So he walked towards Legolas and sat down next to him, watching how the apprehension was growing in the eyes of the prince.

Elrond just smiled and rested his eyes on the small Gîlríon who ignored him and was solely focused on suckling. It made Legolas frown; he changed his grip on the small body so that his arm covered himself and his babe, although he could not even say why he felt like hiding from Elrond who was, after all, a healer. Still, he did not like being watched when he already felt so vulnerable and insecure. But the small movement seemed to have disturbed his little star, who let go of his nipple to make an angry sound and then latch back onto it once more. Something was wrong now, though; this time it hurt and Legolas made a small squeak of surprise and pain while he tried to get the aching nub free of his son’s insistent mouth.

“Ouch, Gîl! Stop it!” he complained, pressing one hand to the aching nub while the other held his squirming son in his lap. He groaned miserably at the feeling of soreness, then glared at Elrond when the lord actually dared to laugh. Legolas had not invited him to come watch, so what was he doing here? If he had nothing better to do than laugh at him, then he could just as well leave. Legolas certainly did not need him here; he hated having others observe his body. It was enough that they were already calling him a girl for submitting to Glorfindel; he did not need to show them that his body had changed to function like that of a female as well.

But of course Elrond could not simply leave him alone to care for his son, no, he had to touch him, too. Legolas was very annoyed by now, and flinched back with an angry hiss when Elrond’s fingers brushed his hurting nipple, glaring at the Noldo when he dared to reach out for him once more. “Do not touch me!” he insisted and then growled deep in his throat when Elrond did not listen and instead held him still against the headboard of the bed with one hand. His other hand once more brushed against his nipple, pressing against the swollen area and taking in the redness and Legolas’ soft gasp.

“Does this happen often?” he asked calmly.

Another glare answered him. “Sometimes.”

“Hmmm...” Elrond mused, changing to the other nipple to prod and massage there as well. “This happens because you hold him the wrong way... but I showed you what to do, did I not?”

“Yes,” Legolas admitted, a little calmer now but still clearly unhappy with the intimate touches. “But sometimes he is too impatient to wait for me to position him correctly.”

Elrond laughed softly and shook his head. “He will have to learn patience if you do not want to continue to hurt.” Then he smiled at Gîlríon and stroked his cheek with one finger. “Impatient and demanding, hmm? Just like your father to take what you want without caring if you cause pain...”

Legolas blushed under Elrond’s meaningful smirk, feeling shame at being so casually humiliated, and by means of his son even! Nevertheless he kept silent and tried not to give away how Elrond’s remarks had affected him.

“Stay here, I have a salve which will help with the pain,” Elrond finally said and got up to get a small pot from a board. When he returned, Legolas refused to meet his eyes and did his best not to flinch when his aching nipple was once more touched. The salve felt good though, and Legolas finally relaxed a little when the pain lessened under Elrond’s skilful massage. “Next time, you should tell me if you experience any pain, no matter why or where... I am a healer after all, and although I have tried to find as much information about male pregnancies as possible, there is not much written about it.”

Legolas nodded meekly. His anger had disappeared again and all he wanted right now was to get away from Elrond as fast as possible. Even if the Noldo was a healer, he hated this forced intimacy. He just could not bring himself to trust him; even when Elrond was checking his body he could never forget that this was his father’s nemesis who touched his most intimate places while he had to helplessly accept all that was done to him.

“I am beginning to write down all I could gather from your pregnancy,” Elrond began to tell him while his hand was still moving in gentle circles over Legolas’ chest. “Now that I am finally able to witness such a pregnancy, I am sure that this will someday help somebody... at least when you carry Glorfindel’s next child we will know what to expect.”

Glorfindel’s next child... Legolas chose not to answer and instead only sighed. That was not something he looked forward to... especially not when he still felt so insecure when it came to caring for Gîlríon. Would they not at least give him some time to grow more experienced with the raising of a child?

“Your other children are going to be as adorable as this little one, I think,” Elrond smiled and watched as Gîlríon’s blue eyes fixed on him in fascination. “Yes, little star, you look forward to having siblings, don’t you? I will enjoy seeing children playing in my gardens once more... and you, princeling, you will enjoy having a family like that, won’t you?”

Legolas’ eyes widened. Did Elrond know...? But no... how could he? Perhaps he was so easy to read that it was obvious to everybody how much he needed those small tokens of affection Glorfindel granted him?It was pathetic, this need, Legolas knew that, but until now he had always hoped that nobody knew that weakness of his. “I will always love my children,” he declared and felt to his great dismay the threat of tears. No, he could not start crying, not in front of Elrond... he would never be able to forgive himself if he brought that shame on himself.

“I know, little one,” Elrond sighed and gently forced his chin up so he could look into Legolas’ eyes. “There is a lot of love inside of you, isn’t there? No, do not fear me,” he then added when Legolas again lowered his eyes, “I will not hurt you. And you should not fear Glorfindel either, he cares for you very much... If you could bring yourself to trust him completely, I think that you would find that there is nothing for you to fear here. But you cannot do that yet, can you?”

Legolas was trembling a little; his eyes showed that he did not understand what Elrond tried to tell him, that he was even scared by this sudden friendliness.

“You look very beautiful, sweet prince,” Elrond whispered and pressed a kiss to the Sinda’s brow. “And I think that it might make you feel better if you were to wear your braids... Remember that you are not a nameless, unimportant plaything; you are the one who will carry the heirs of Glorfindel the Balrog-slayer, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, beloved of all our people. And while you belong to Glorfindel, you do not belong to anyone else, so try to show that you are no toy, indeed you are of far nobler birth than those who mock you!”

“But I am no longer a prince...” Legolas almost whimpered when Elrond’s words brought back the pain of being exiled by his own father.

“Yes, you are! You were born as a prince and nobody can take that away from you! Your father, your whole realm might try to pretend that you don’t exist, but this does not change the fact that you do exist, that you are a prince, the youngest prince of Mirkwood!”

Tears began to run down Legolas’ cheeks. He had so desperately tried to hold them back but now he could no longer fight them. Elrond’s words had shattered something inside him and he began to sob, shaking against the Peredhel who readily gathered him into his arms.

“Shh little prince, do not cry,” Elrond whispered sweetly into his ear. “You are not made for tears, beautiful one...” His mouth moved to the silvery tracks on Legolas’ cheeks and kissed the moisture away, then pressed gentle kisses all over the youth’s face until Legolas finally stopped crying. “Such beauty... how could anybody not love you?” he sighed and then took Legolas’ mouth, gently and yet insistently sampling what so far only Glorfindel had tasted. Legolas’ lips parted for him in what could have been a startled gasp, or perhaps also willing submission. And when Elrond’s tongue delved deep into his mouth to explore, Legolas did not follow it’s invitation to play but neither did he pull away. After a moment, Elrond even managed to coax a soft, helpless moan from somewhere deep in Legolas’ throat when he did not relent in his agressive exploration. The eyes of the Noldo lightened up with pleased satisfaction, and he became gentler and raised one hand to caress Legolas’ hair. Then he turned a little, still tenderly kissing the youth, and raised his eyes to throw a gaze both teasing and challenging to Glorfindel who stood frozen in the door.

12

“What exactly are you doing there, my lord?” Glorfindel asked slowly. His voice was calm... too calm, and Elrond knew that his friend was only a very small step away from showing his infamous temper. At the sound of Glorfindel’s voice the young prince in his arms had frozen as well until he suddenly pulled away from Elrond and scrambled backwards, only stopping when he felt the headboard at his back. His eyes were wide and filled with dread, he was once more shaking as panic began to set in, and for a moment Elrond felt remorse for what he had done. It was not something that he had planned to do; at the beginning he had only wanted to talk with Legolas and see how this situation affected him. But then this chance had presented itself, a chance perhaps to finally make Glorfindel realize that Legolas was more than those he had taken to his bed before.

Of course this action could disastrously rebound and cause more hurt to these two, but this was a risk Elrond told himself he had to take if he wanted to see an improvement of this situation in the near future. As much as he loved his seneschal, sometimes you had to hurt your friends in order to help them – as least if they were as pig-headed as his dear seneschal.

“Oh, I think that is obvious! I wanted to know if your fair prince tastes as sweet as his appearance promises. And so far you have never protested if I wanted a small sample of your lovers.” Elrond smiled, then got up from the bed. “Do not be angry with him, I surprised him.”

Glorfindel stayed silent, still not moving and not showing any reaction to Elrond’s words. His eyes had darkened in what could have been both rage and hurt at being betrayed so; Elrond was not sure. But when he moved closer to his friend in order to leave the room, he once more spoke, this time in a whisper that was meant only for Glorfindel’s ears.

“Now ask yourself what you feel, and ask yourself why you feel it.”

Glorfindel flinched and turned to look into Elrond’s eyes. So this was what was behind it? This was just some sort of game to prove a point to him? Elrond would frighten the Sindarin child out of his wits, he’d destroy any trust the young prince might have developed, only to gain an advantage in a game Glorfindel did not even want to play?

No... Elrond had always been his friend as much as his Lord, but that strange, calculating creature he saw in front of himself now did not have any resemblance to the man he had been glad to call his friend. “Do you not care at all about how deeply you have hurt him?” he murmured tonelessly, the feeling of betrayal obvious in his eyes.

“Ah, and now ask yourself why *you* care,” Elrond whispered in a voice which seemed strangely sad, and then he left the room to return to the balcony where Erestor and Thalaron were still waiting. Glorfindel did not move for several minutes, he kept standing in the door and watching Legolas who still crouched at the end of the bed. Pale, shocked, trembling, his cheeks wet with tears... it was obvious what Elrond’s casual use of him had done to the youth. Glorfindel still felt betrayed, still wanted vengeance for the pain in Legolas’ eyes, but at the same time a feeling grew inside him which was dark and too powerful to resist. It told him that he should not care, that he should ignore the state Legolas was in; after all, the Sinda had been a willing participant in the kiss, had not protested... he deserved the pain, yes, he deserved a good deal more, a cane, no, one of the whips humans used on their horses...

“Please, I am sorry...” Legolas whispered finally. His lashes were sparkling with tears when he raised his eyes to give Glorfindel a pleading gaze, his son cradled tightly against his chest as if he were afraid that Glorfindel might take him away from him.

The golden-haired warrior gave him a look filled with such rage that Legolas flinched back, then Glorfindel turned and left the room without another word. Legolas broke down then, curled around his son and sobbed until there were no more tears left.

It took an hour until Legolas finally found the courage to leave Elrond’s bed. The lord had not come back to see him and Legolas was glad. He did not think that he could look at Elrond again without showing how betrayed he felt, how much it had hurt him to see himself handled as a toy by the very same man whose sweet words had given him back some confidence only moments before. And now he had to face Glorfindel, there was no way around it... Legolas hoped that in the meantime the warrior had calmed a little, but he did not really believe it. That look in Glorfindel’s eyes had scared him – but there was nothing he could do about it. If the Noldo decided to punish him, he would just have to accept it - even if it meant submitting to the cane once more, or to whatever other means of punishment Glorfindel deemed neccessary...

Glorfindel was not in their rooms when Legolas finally forced himself to enter them. This caused both relief and even greater panic in Legolas. He had never known Glorfindel to wait; usually the warrior would act immediately whether it was a matter of punishment or politics. That he kept away from their room now scared Legolas; perhaps Glorfindel’s rage was so great that he feared doing Legolas permanent harm if he dealt with him now?

Legolas sighed. He would have to wait and see what Glorfindel would do with him, but for now he could do nothing but wait. He pressed a gentle kiss to his son’s brow and then put him to sleep in his cradle. They had put it in what had once been Glorfindel’s dressing room; now it was a nursery and Legolas was for once glad about the wall which separated him and his son. At least Gîlríon would not see or hear what happened when Glorfindel eventually returned...

It was already dark outside when Glorfindel finally entered his bedroom. Legolas was asleep, naked as Glorfindel had decreed so many months ago and tightly curled in on himself. There were tracks of dried tears on his face and every so often he would whimper and move restlessly. It was obvious that Legolas’ sleep was darkened by the events of the afternoon, but Glorfindel did not move to comfort him. Instead he pulled his clothes off and threw them against the wall, not caring where they ended up. When he was naked he joined Legolas on the bed and shook him hard until the youth jerked awake with a frightened whimper.

“Well?” Glorfindel hissed. “I set you a task earlier today... have you decided on a way to pleasure me?”

Legolas stared at him, wide-eyed and trembling with fear. This was not what he had expected – did Glorfindel want to pretend that nothing had happened? At least it was better than being punished, Legolas tried to tell himself. But with the events of the day, he had completely forgotten about Glorfindel’s request... what could he do? What would Glorfindel like? Always Glorfindel had been the one to initiate intimacy, always Glorfindel would tell him how to please him. How was he supposed to think of something special? He had no experience in these matters, and Glorfindel knew it...

Nevertheless he had to do something or Glorfindel would decide to punish him after all. “I... I could use my mouth... if you would like...” Legolas stammered and then bent down to give some tiny licks to Glorfindel’s shaft. The Noldo was already half hard, so Legolas tried to take him deeper into his mouth, desperate to not irritate Glorfindel any further. Over the months, Legolas had become more skilled but it still was not easy for him to overcome the fear of choking. That was why he usually took his time, taking more and more of the lord’s considerable length in small steps, but today he did not think that he should wait or Glorfindel might get even angrier. So he forced himself down, trying to take all of Glorfindel as deep as possible. Of course this did not work; Legolas had to fight the reflex to cough and was soon choking around the swollen shaft, crying in panic both at the lack of air and the certainty that he had now enraged Glorfindel beyond anything that he had experienced before.

Suddenly he was yanked back; Glorfindel glared at him and then simply threw him down on the bed and moved to cover him with his body. “Enough, you stupid little... was that supposed to please me? Is your fumbling, your ineptitude, supposed to arouse me? If you are not able to serve me properly, I’m going to take what I need, and don’t you start crying, you had your chance!”

Legolas was sobbing softly but nevertheless spread his legs when he felt Glorfindel’s hardness nudge his opening. And then the Noldo pushed into him, one thrust so hard that he was buried completely inside the young prince. Legolas whimpered at the burn – he had oiled himself earlier that day but that was already several hours ago and it was not enough to ease the way. The only thing that helped a little was his own saliva, but nevertheless Legolas whimpered from the hot, burning sensation of being taken so forcibly. And it only got worse; soon Glorfindel was pounding into him with abandon and without any regard for the pain he caused. At least it did not take long until Glorfindel reached his climax, and Legolas sobbed his relief when the hot length inside him twitched and spurted scalding seed deep into his abused passage. The Noldo growled and thrust one, twice more, then fell down onto his back.

Legolas did not dare move lest Glorfindel decided that it was not enough. He hurt and Glorfindel was so heavy on his back that it became hard to breathe, but above all he was shocked by the fact that he had not come. No matter what, so far Glorfindel had always made sure that he experienced pleasure as well, even that violent first time... But this time Glorfindel had not cared about him at all, had not taken care to angle his thrusts so that Legolas would be aroused.

Then Glorfindel got up, put his clothes back on, and left without a word. Once more Legolas was shaken by sobs, but all the events of the day had left him so exhausted that he fell asleep after a few minutes, only to jerk awake again sometime later after a nightmare. Several times the same thing happened until he grew afraid of sleep and the dreams it brought, and yet he could not fight his body’s need, and so always slipped back into reverie.

Finally he woke once more when the light of Arien was already sending the first rays to fight the darkness of the night, and this time he was no longer alone. Glorfindel must have returned while he had been asleep; the golden warrior rested behind him and had drawn him into his arms, his face buried in Legolas’ hair. Once more tears began to slide down Legolas’ cheeks, but this time it was from relief. Glorfindel no longer hated him, Glorfindel no longer sought to punish him... perhaps it was too early yet to see if he had forgiven him, but at least Glorfindel had returned to him. And when Legolas fell asleep this time, there were no more nightmares while Glorfindel held him close.

13

Legolas was still asleep when Glorfindel woke up. It was already late, the sun was high up in the sky, and for a moment Glorfindel wondered why nobody had come to wake him so that he could fulfill his daily duties. Legolas was sleeping peacefully, his head buried against Glorfindel’s throat so that with each breath, the youth’s slightly parted lips caressed his skin with warm air. A soft whimper greeted Glorfindel’s first movement, and Legolas pressed himself more tightly against him. It was almost as if he were desperate not to lose contact with Glorfindel’s skin, and for a moment Glorfindel revelled in the warmth of the slender body so close to him, a warmth which seemed to be caused not only by bodily closeness, but even more so by affection, by love and trust.

Then memory returned to him and he froze. His trust had been betrayed, by both Elrond and Legolas. He remembered that moment when he saw them kiss, remembered the pain... and how could his lord, his best friend hurt him so? After those long centuries of servitude, how could Elrond betray him like this?

Yes, Glorfindel remembered the pain, and oh, he also remembered what he had done to Legolas in retaliation. He had – he had raped him.

There was no other word for what he had done. He had taken him brutally, made him hurt and bleed, not for his own pleasure, but solely because he wanted to punish Legolas. Sickness rose up in him, and his stomach seemed to clench as he realized that now, finally, he had crossed a line, and had commited the one crime he had promised himself that he would never become guilty of.  
This was worse than when he had taken Legolas for the first time. Then he had been brutal as well but he had realized in time what crime he was about to commit, before he had completely destroyed the innocent youth. Now, though... there was no going back. No matter how much pain Legolas had caused him, he should not have punished him like that. He should have taken a cane to him, a whip even, but to punish him like this, to twist something which always should mean pleasure and ecstasy into an act of torture...

Glorfindel sobbed once then swallowed the sound, afraid to wake Legolas and be confronted with his fear and revulsion. He bowed his head in grief, buried his face in the golden hair of the young prince, a tear escaping his eyes and running down his cheek.

“Forgive me, Legolas...” he whispered and pressed his lips to his brow, then gently extricated himself from the tight grip of the youth’s arms and got up. He spent a long time standing at the window, staring blankly outside where the sun was shining brightly, almost as if to mock the darkness in his heart.

Finally Legolas stirred. Slowly he propped himself up on his elbow, blinking as his eyes focused on the light-filled room. He yawned and stretched, rolling over to where he usually rested against Glorfindel’s body, but when he found that part of the bed empty, he sighed and sat up.The motion caused a painful, burning sensation in his lower body. He was used to soreness, but this was worse than what he usually felt after Glorfindel had claimed him. He hissed softly and frowned when he saw that the Noldo stood at the other side of the room against the window with a unreadable expression on his face. And at that moment, when his eyes met those of Glorfindel, he remembered.

For a long moment he kept sitting in the bed as if frozen, returning Glorfindel’s gaze out of wide, fearful eyes. Then finally Glorfindel moved; he turned away from Legolas and entered the bathroom without a word, and at that perceived rejection, the Sindarin prince began to cry silently, shaking as he realized what his betrayal had done. But Glorfindel did not stay away for long; after a short moment he came back with a jar in his hand and sat down on the bed next to Legolas.

“Shh, do not cry” he soothed, pain obvious in his voice, when Legolas flinched away from him. “I am not going to hurt you...” Not again, he added silently.

  
At those words, Legolas lowered his head in supplication until his forehead rested on Glorfindel’s thigh, crying even harder. “Please, I am sorry,” he said brokenly. “Please, please don’t send me away. Punish me any way you want but do not take my son away from me...”

Glorfindel closed his eyes, then he pulled Legolas into his arms. “Hush, pen-neth, I won’t send you away, and I will never ever part you from our son! I... I am sorry about the way I reacted yesterday.” It was the truth; he felt terrible remorse. He had not thought that he would actually be able to apologize, but now that he was confronted with Legolas’ fears – ai, what a monster he must appear to be if the youth actually thought him able to take their son away from him! “I should not have hurt you that way. But you must understand, little prince, I have warned you about my temper... and to see you betray me like this! I should have taken a cane or a whip to you, and believe me, if this happens again I will do so, do you understand me?”

“Yes, my lord,” Legolas sobbed and clutched at Glorfindel’s arms. “I am so sorry, I know I deserved the punishment.. but please, I did not want to betray you, I was so confused, so afraid...”

Glorfindel sighed. Yes... he would have to talk to Elrond again. There was no acceptable apology for this; his lord’s reasons were callous and entirely self-serving. But first he had to calm his princeling and see what harm he had done...

Glorfindel kept one hand on Legolas’ back and rubbed the pale skin to soothe him as his other hand dipped once into the jar of healing salve and then began to rub it carefully around Legolas’ sore opening. Legolas whimpered softly and Glorfindel became even gentler, pressing a light kiss to the tip of his ear to distract him as he pushed one finger inside to spread the salve there as well. “Shhh,” Glorfindel whispered again and kissed the soft, tear-stained lips, “I am sorry for what I did... I promise you, I will never punish you that way again."

Legolas sighed and rested his head on Glorfindel’s shoulder, a little uncomfortable because of the slowly moving finger inside his still burning passage. But in spite of his discomfort, he was still grateful that his lord not only seemed to have forgiven him, but also tried to ease his pain. “No, I am sorry, my lord, and I promise that I will never again allow another to touch me, no matter who they are.”

“Yes,” Glorfindel agreed, his eyes growing dark for a moment. “Yes, you had better keep that promise, because you do not want to know what I am otherwise capable of.”

  
14

Once he had finished tending to Legolas, Glorfindel left to find out what had happened to his work while he was asleep. Unfortunately, the first person he came upon was Erestor, who sneered at him, commenting on his age and the fact that it must be very exhausting for him to keep up with his little toy. After another round of only thinly veiled insults, Glorfindel finally managed to find out that Elrond had already implemented the plans he had spoken of yesterday, and most of his usual work was being taken care of by his captains. Glorfindel was not happy about this, despite the free time it granted him, but at least that left only one other task for him now... finding Elrond and clarifying a few things. After having spent almost the entire night walking through the gardens in an attempt to calm himself and to gather his thoughts, it was time now to confront the one who had been the cause of all this.

Finding the Lord of the Valley was actually harder than Glorfindel had thought since he was neither in his rooms nor in the library or the healers’ chambers. Finally, after what felt to Glorfindel like the fifth trip through all of the Last Homely House’s rooms and corridors, he encountered Elrond. The dark haired Noldo had just come around the corner which led to the kitchen and storerooms when he found himself eye to eye with his blond seneschal, who scowled at him instead of apologizing for running into him. Glorfindel’s mood had steadily grown worse with every room he had found empty; every corridor he crossed gave him more time to once again sink down into the dark, simmering anger of the last night.

“Elrond, so you exist after all!” he said angrily, staring at the Noldorin Lord who did not even seem to be aware of what his actions had done. “I have been looking for you for what feels like the better part of the day!”

Elrond frowned, then shook his head with a sigh. “Your usual duties are already being taken care of. I’ve told you yesterday that I don’t want you to–“

“Yes,” Glorfindel interrupted him darkly, “and I did not look for you to beg for more work. On the contrary, my Lord,” he spat the title out like an insult, “I came to tell you that I will not do any of your paperwork today. Instead I think I will have to spend all day trying to remedy what you so carelessly destroyed yesterday.”

“Legolas?” Elrond took a deep breath, then sighed. “Look, Glorfindel, I did not want to cause you any pain, I simply wanted you to realize–“

With a growl Glorfindel swept Elrond against the wall, simultaneously yanking his dagger from his belt and pressing it to the Elven Lord’s throat in a motion so swift and smooth that Elrond did not even realize what was happening until the cold metal rested against his skin.

“You wanted me to realize something, my friend? Do you want to know what you made me do? I raped him, Elrond. I raped him. And all of his pain, his tears, his blood and his fears were caused by you.”

Glorfindel closed his eyes. His voice was shaking, as well as his hand which held the dagger. It had all come back to him... his anger, his despair, the violent need to see somebody punished in retribution for the hurt he felt... Legolas’ tears, his pliant submissiveness, limply accepting his punishment... and his own terrible enjoyment of it. It was all Elrond’s fault – it had to be! How could he possibly accept that there was a darkness like this inside him, some horrible dark presence which fed on the pain and the tears of one who was far too weak to protect himself?

And now he had even used his knife to threaten his lord, the one he had sworn fealty and obeisance to! What had he been thinking? No – this went too far. He had no control over himself anymore, he had to stop this before something happened which he could never atone for.

With a soft, desperate sob, he pulled the weapon away from Elrond and thrust it into the wooden door frame against which the Peredhel's shoulder was pressed. Elrond flinched as the dagger struck hard scarcely a hand's breadth from his neck. “Never again try to help me, my Lord, lest I kill somebody the next time you decide to meddle in my affairs!”

Open-mouthed and visibly shaken, Elrond watched as his seneschal ran from him, the dagger still quivering from the force which had been used to thrust it into the door frame next to his head. For a few moments he stood there, simply trying to gather his thoughts and calm his breath, then he made a decision.

“Wait, Glorfindel! Don’t run away from me!” he shouted as he hastened after his seneschal. The golden-haired elf did not listen to him, but Elrond did not relent in his pursuit of the distraught elf. Finally Glorfindel had to stop or else find himself running through the more heavily traveled hallways of Imladris with its Lord in pursuit, yellling about events that no other elf had a right to know.

“Curse you, Elrond, what do you want from me?” Glorfindel growled as he turned to face his pursuer. “Haven’t you done enough already?”

“You cannot simply throw something like... like that into my face and expect me to just accept it!” Elrond had clearly lost his patience as well. The aura of calmness he usually seemed to generate was left behind along with Glorfindel’s dagger; his grey eyes sparked with a power which could be unleashed by a single wrong word and break down upon the other like lightning at any moment. “You raped him, Glorfindel? You raped him and now dare to blame me for it? No, do not argue with me now! What about Legolas?” Elrond took a deep, calming breath. “What did you do to him? Does he need my attention?”

“I think he has already seen enough of your attention!” Glorfindel snorted, answering Elrond’s scowl with a glare of his own. The anger was still there, simmering deep inside him, but the reminder of what his actions could have done to Legolas calmed him more effectively than any reasoning of Elrond. “It is good to see that you care about him so much... but no, he is not hurt. I already took care of him. Although not every wound of his is as easy to treat... Do you have any idea what you did to him yesterday? Just when he began to develop a little trust? Your little game was successful, Elrond, indeed I have now proven how much I care for him – but you did not think that you would be the first one to feel the result of this care, did you? Stay away from him, Elrond, and cease your games. He does not deserve to be a pawn to be used by you, and not even our friendship will stay my hand should you try something like that again.”

Elrond’s eyes had grown cold during Glorfindel’s little speech, and when he was finished, the Peredhel nodded stiffly. “I understand, Glorfindel, and I realize that what I did to Legolas yesterday was not entirely fair. Yet you cannot blame me for the crime you committed; you have only your own temper to blame for that. And if you indeed have finally realized that you care for the little prince, you would do better to work on controlling that temper in the future. Now return to him if that is what you want, you can resume your work tomorrow. I have to meet with Erestor now.”

Glorfindel could not believe that Elrond would simply dismiss him like that, but while he stood there in the hallway still white with anger, the Lord of the Valley turned his back on him and walked away.

Glorfindel slowly shook his head. He would never have thought that their friendship would one day end like this, and because of a Sindarin prince at that! Still, there were things which he simply could not forgive that easily... if Elrond valued their friendship, he would have to do more to regain his trust. As it seemed right now, Glorfindel would have to adjust himself to coldness and silence at Elrond’s table from now on.

15

~~~

Several weeks passed without incident. The new arrangement of the guards and their captains’ schedules worked as well as Elrond had hoped, which left Glorfindel with a great amount of free time. As proposed he had undertaken to instruct Legolas in Quenya, and the young Sinda had proven to be an inquisitive and eager student – if his mind was not occupied by other things, which happened far too often for Glorfindel’s liking. Their son, Legolas’ training in weaponry, the history books of Erestor or the latest volume of poetry – almost anything could distract his young student from his lessons.

Glorfindel was sorely tempted to give him a thorough spanking so that Legolas would finally learn to pay attention – but he had thus far refrained. He could still remember how easily the twins had been fascinated by each and every thing when they were as young, and somehow he found himself sympathizing with the youth who was now for the first time allowed to ask questions.

And of course there was still the matter of that night when he had taken the youth brutally, in order to punish him. Since then the thought of causing Legolas pain no longer held delight for him. Every time he thought to discipline the young prince he again felt the panic and remorse he had felt after he realized what he had done.

This situation was not acceptable to Glorfindel. He could not allow this irrational fear to stay his hand when it came to discipline. The youth needed to have firm limits set now or the future would lead to more misunderstandings and power struggles. Still, it was hard to punish Legolas when he came to him flushed and breathless, talking of a blue butterfly with obvious delight, when he should have already finished the translation of a poem – more so because he could still remember the terrible fear in Legolas’ eyes not so long ago.

Glorfindel demanded submission, but he did not like it when it was brought on by fear alone. He had thought those days to be long gone, but through Elrond’s meddling, Legolas’ confidence and trust had experienced a relapse. The youth was still painfully shy when it came to interaction with the other Noldor of Imladris; he kept quiet during dinner and during his training sessions and in general tried not to catch anyone’s attention. The only one he allowed himself to act unguarded around was Glorfindel, and while the seneschal was happy about that fact, it baffled him. After all he, had been the one to betray Legolas’ trust; he had broken his promise to protect him.

This uncomfortable fact made it all the more harder for Glorfindel to enforce discipline when it came to lessons. He was the only one that the youth trusted, and after the recent crisis, he did not want to strain that trust further by having to punish Legolas over the matter of lessons. The studies in language and weaponry and history were all in his best interest - yet if Legolas did not soon exert self-control, then he would be forced to take a firm hand to encourage his attention. For apart from his general neglect in training Legolas, it seemed that Thranduil had also failed to encourage self-discipline, a trait that the young prince sorely needed to develop if he were ever to grow into the position that he was born to.

Nor was this matter of lessons the only area in which Glorfindel hesitated to exert control. Even the pleasure that he took from Legolas was tainted by that night. It seemed that Legolas had forgiven him, or – more likely – was convinced that Glorfindel’s actions had been a just punishment he had earned, despite the fact that Glorfindel had admitted his mistake. It left the Noldo in an awkward situation as he could not quite bring himself to use Legolas as was his right, and so he had held back at night. Refraining from hurting the youth nevertheless meant that he was at the same time denying himself pleasure, the kind of pleasure that only the feeling of a trembling, helpless body beneath him could bring. And Glorfindel had never been somebody to deny himself, especially not when it came to pleasure. His frustration grew with each day he forced himself to gentleness as he took Legolas, making him irritable and short-spoken when he met with his captains.

The situation between the Lord of Imladris and his seneschal was also still unresolved. Elrond had not said a single word about the event, beyond the heated exchange in the hallway that day. Every time they had meals at his table, both Glorfindel and Elrond refused to talk to each other. This in turn caused the other members of the household to keep silent as well, fearing to worsen the situation. Meetings in Elrond’s study had also shortened considerably; Glorfindel never stayed longer than needed. A few frosty words while he delivered the reports of his captains was the only interaction that took place between them.

But today something had happened which brought a change to the usual routine of the day. During the last exchange of prisoners with Mirkwood, one of Elrond’s advisors, who had been taken during the war, had been freed together with several other Noldorin warriors. Most of those who had survived their time as prisoners left for the Grey Havens, after spending some time in Lórien until they were well enough for the long journey. But Ellonúr, together with two other warriors, had decided to return to Imladris and his place in his Lord’s council. As a servant had just told Glorfindel, the small group had arrived an hour ago, so instead of the usual dinner, a small feast would be held to celebrate the event.

Legolas had been frightened when he heard the news as he was well aware that someone who had been a prisoner of his father could only harbor hostile feelings towards him, despite the fact that Legolas’ own relationship with his father was rather complicated. Dinner would probably mean humiliation for him as those Noldor would certainly enjoy seeing the son of their enemy in a position like this. On the other hand there had been situations like this before and by now he should have learned to live with them, Legolas told himself while he looked through the robes that Glorfindel had had made for him. Surely it could not be worse than that evening when he had insulted Celeborn and had then been punished by Glorfindel...

The memory made him shiver which in turn directed Glorfindel’s attention to him. The golden haired elf had just decided on a robe for himself which he now laid out on the bed. As usual when it came to ceremonial events it was embroidered with tiny golden flowers, the symbol of his house. Next to the robe there was a small box which, as Legolas knew, contained a hairbrush and several small hairclips, also made from gold and formed into filigreed golden flowers.

Glorfindel frowned when he saw Legolas so lost in thought. He sat down on the bed, next to the small box, and patted the space between his thighs, ordering Legolas to sit there. He wrapped his arms around him when the youth obeyed, drawing him closer and resting his cheek against the soft hair of the young prince.

“Well, roch-neth? What is it that makes you frown so?” he asked, although he was fairly sure that he knew the source of Legolas’ concern.

The Sinda sighed, then bit his lip. “Do I have to accompany you to dinner, my lord? Can I not stay with Gîl instead? I am sure that no one would miss my presence...”

“I would, little one,” Glorfindel said and gently kissed Legolas’ neck. “I enjoy having you close to me, you know that. I also know why it is that you do not want to come to the Hall of Fire tonight, but believe me, if you stay away everybody will think that you are frightened. There is nothing you have to be afraid of – you are mine and I will not allow anyone to harm you, not even if it is one of Elrond’s advisors.”

Legolas was clearly not convinced by those words, but he had learned to obey Glorfindel and so simply nodded with an unhappy sigh.

The seneschal continued to study him, frowning as an idea came to him. It had been one of Elrond’s suggestions, yes, but perhaps it might raise Legolas’ confidence enough to make the evening bearable for him – of course, it could instead make the evening even worse, but at some point Legolas would have to face who he was and who he would be one day, if the Valar were willing.

Legolas did not react when Glorfindel took up the brush and began to move it gently through his hair, but when the Noldo was finished and instead began to take several strands and interweave them into a complex structure, he frowned again. “What are you doing, my Lord?” he asked, wincing when Glorfindel tugged at a strand. Had he not been told that he would only wear his knots again if he begged for it? Why would Glorfindel change his mind now?

“What do you think I’m doing, little one?” Glorfindel asked back and laughed as he finished his work. “This is after all not a normal dinner; we are expected to dress for the occasion – and that means that you will look the way someone of your position should look."

Legolas groaned. So he would once again be flaunted as Glorfindel’s possession, as a slave, a whore... But he had survived it before, and so he would survive it again, he told himself in resignation when Glorfindel turned him around so he could look into the mirror next to the bed.

What he saw there made him freeze. It was no slave who looked at him from the mirror, nor was it Glorfindel’s willing whore – no, this was someone he had never seen before. It was Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, whose pale hair was woven into the ceremonial braids of the Royal Family of Mirkwood.

  
\-----------------------------------------

16

For a long moment Legolas stared at his image in the mirror. He was speechless – he had not expected this. Slowly he raised a hand to touch his intricately woven hair, as if he doubted the reality of what he saw. Yet this was real, his hair soft against his fingertips, the knots and loops following the pattern which was so familiar and yet so new. The Royal Braids... how often had he dreamed of wearing them one day? And yet he had known deep within his heart that it could never be, not after all that he had done...

When he finally spoke, it was not what Glorfindel had expected. “Why?” Legolas said in a small voice, tears already starting to form in his eyes. “Why mock me like this? Please my lord, don’t force me to do this – ai, I cannot bear it...”

Glorfindel was stunned – he had expected gratitude, not tears. Frowning, he turned Legolas around, brushing his tears away with his thumb. “Why are you crying, pen lend? I do not want to mock you – you are a prince, it is your right to wear these braids!”

“But I am no prince, my lord!” Legolas cried out, and all of a sudden Glorfindel found himself with an armful of distraught youth sobbing against his shoulder.

“Legolas! Calm yourself!” Glorfindel was shocked by this outburst. No, this was indeed not what he had expected, but how could he have foreseen this reaction? All he had wanted to do was to raise Legolas’ self-confidence, and instill some of the pride he should feel as a prince of his people.

“I am not worthy of them,” Legolas sobbed. “I do not deserve to wear them; my father would never have allowed it! Take them out, take them out and give me back your knots of possession, for that is who I am now!”

“No, little one,” Glorfindel said, and gently began rubbing Legolas’ back. “I said that you will have to beg for my knots, but not like this, and not for this reason.”

The young prince did not react. He did not even seem to listen as he wept his shame and despair into Glorfindel’s tunic, but the seneschal continued to soothe and hold him until finally the tears subsided. Then he raised Legolas’ face and kissed the tear-stained cheeks, smiling at the tired and hopeless look on the face of the youth. “You are so young, sweet one... you have not yet learned that not everything is as bleak as it looks to you at the moment. You are a prince; your father might deny it, but one day you will be restored to your rightful position – I promise you. I do not mean these braids as a mockery; no, I only want to make certain that everyone who looks upon you this evening knows that they stand before Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood. I will not allow anyone to ridicule you; have I not promised to protect you?”

Glorfindel grinned when Legolas grudgingly nodded. “What do you think, then – shall I bear my sword with me to the feast? The first one who looks at you the wrong way will get pierced by my sword.” Despite his tears, Legolas snickered. “Not that sword!” Glorfindel admonished with mock outrage although he was secretly pleased at having brought a smile to the youth’s face.

“See? It is not that bad, is it?” he then said softly, his voice serious once more. The young prince nodded and raised a hand to rub at his reddened eyes. It made Glorfindel smile; Legolas looked like a small child pouting because another child had stolen its sweets. But then, that thought wasn’t so far off – Legolas was yet as vulnerable as a child. So easy to hurt, so easy to bring down. Glorfindel still wondered what had made Thranduil treat his youngest like this. Had the king not realized what his constant rejection would do? Legolas believed that he was not worthy of love and affection and yet he yearned for it so desperately that each new rejection, each new insult sliced open the scars his father’s coldness had left. And Legolas believed those hateful words, believed them to be true since it was identical to the treatment he had known at home. If he ever met him, Glorfindel swore he would make Thranduil suffer for the pain he had caused Legolas. But right now he had more urgent things to deal with...

When he again focused on Legolas, he found the youth’s eyes downcast, his entire body radiating misery and shame after breaking down in tears. “I am sorry, my lord,” Legolas said softly. “I should not have reacted like this.”

“No, little one, I should have thought to tell you before I braided your hair. I am sorry for surprising you. Still, I think that you look very beautiful like this. And I am certain that tonight, you will look even more beautiful than Elladan,” Glorfindel said, trying to change the topic. “It makes you look older, and more serious; people will be afraid to offend you tonight.”

“You are jesting, my lord,” Legolas said, but his eyes showed his happiness at the compliment. “But I cannot wear them; I lost that right when I was exiled...”

“Ah, did we not already talk this over, cunn lend? I told you that your father’s opinion will change one day. And did the blood in your veins change the minute your father banished you? Have you been denied the love of the trees of your homeland? Does your soul no longer understand the songs of the wind and the leaves of Mirkwood? No, you are still a prince of that realm and your father cannot change that. He might think that he hates you now, but the trees will still sing for you if you return.”

Legolas was silent. His eyes were unfocused as his thoughts were filled with memories of his home, of the great wood and the valiant soul of the land. Yes, Glorfindel was right... he still had their love. That had not changed, nor would it ever. He sighed, calmer now that he had remembered how it was to sing with the wind. “If it pleases you, then I will wear these braids, but it does not change the fact that this is not who I am.”

“Perhaps not right now, but this is who you will be one day.” After a gentle kiss, Glorfindel made Legolas get up so that they could both change into their robes. “And this evening is the first step on the way.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

pen lend = sweet one

cunn lend = sweet prince

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

17

When Glorfindel and Legolas entered the dining hall, they found that the arrangement of tables for dinner was different this evening. Usually, they took their meal in a more intimate setting in a smaller room with one big table for the family and friends of the Lord of Imladris and a few tables for other high-ranking members of the household who decided to take their meals there. Today, to accomodate all those who wished to celebrate the occasion, dinner would be served in the more festive atmosphere of the formal dining hall. Two long lines of tables swept down from the head table, which dominated the hall. The head table was reserved for Elrond and his family, and the three returned Noldor would be seated close to him for easy conversation. The tables were decorated with flowers from the gardens; bottles of wine and bowls filled with fruit were arranged at regular intervals so that everybody could have easy access to them.

When Glorfindel and Legolas arrived, the hall was already full of elves; they were standing at the sides of the hall and waiting for the Lord of Imladris to arrive. The room was filled with voices excited about the feast and the stories the three returned elves might have to tell. Nobody took notice of Glorfindel and his companion, as by now the inhabitants of the valley were well used to the sight of the young Sinda. While he was still the object of speculative glances and whispered insults, nobody had dared to be open with their opinion since Elrond had begun chastising anyone who insulted Legolas. And now that there was another event which demanded their attention, it seemed that Legolas had been granted a respite from the curious and all-too-often mocking eyes.

Legolas smiled up at Glorfindel, showing his relief when the seneschal led him to their usual place close to Elrond. There they waited, standing next to their seats until finally Elrond entered the room, accompanied by Erestor, Elladan, and the three freed captives. When the Lord of the house took his seat, everybody else sat as well, and after a few words from Elrond, servants entered the room and placed a vast assortment of dishes on the tables – all sorts of meat from venison to rabbit, vegetables cooked, grilled or filled with other delicacies, freshly baked breads made from wheat, rye or oats, and plates upon which were piled various cheeses and cold meats. The cooks had done their best to celebrate the return of the freed Noldor, and so the tables now offered samples of the vast array of food that Imladris' kitchen had to offer. This was indeed a feast, and while everybody busied themselves with sampling as many of the proffered delicacies as possible, speech was mostly reduced to requests for plates or a refilling of wine.

Finally the hunger of the company was sated and conversation began anew. Legolas discovered that for once he was not the center of attention; for all his concern over the braids, it seemed to him that perhaps only Elrond and Erestor realized which braids they were. As those two were engaged in conversation with Ellonúr who had been given a seat on Elrond’s side, Legolas let his eyes wander around the room, watching all the other elves happily celebrating the event. It made him a little sad to be part of it and yet not belong, since he was not able to share in the happiness as it was his own father who had held these elves captive. So he merely sipped from his wine while he listened to the conversations around him, and when it was gone, even dared to take Glorfindel’s goblet while the seneschal was telling an anecdote to his neighbour.

Legolas was seldom allowed wine, and even then, it was always watered down. Today, in celebration of the events, the wine Glorfindel had chosen for them was a sweet one which tasted slightly of apples; it was not watered down, and Legolas enjoyed the feeling of warmth that it caused in his belly. He soon began to feel sleepy, and the voices around him seemed to grow louder and it became harder to concentrate on the conversation around him as they all seemed to blend into each other. With a soft sigh Legolas finally leaned against Glorfindel’s side, feeling the arm of the seneschal come around his shoulder to hold him close while Glorfindel continued his conversation with his neighbour.

It was a good feeling, Legolas decided, to have Glorfindel close and to be surrounded by so many happy people who focused their attention on something other than him. Smiling dreamily, he rubbed his cheek against his lord’s shoulder, wondering what he might have planned for that night. Ever since that one violent night Glorfindel had been very gentle with him; not once had he disciplined Legolas or forced him to submit. On the one hand it pleased Legolas to be treated with such tenderness, to not have to fear pain, but on the other hand Glorfindel had made it very obvious to him that his pain and submission aroused him... So what did it mean that the lord restrained himself like this? Legolas knew that their gentle couplings could not possibly bring Glorfindel the satisfaction that he wanted, and he wondered just why Glorfindel denied himself the domination he must crave. And what would happen if this continued? Would his lord finally grow bored and decide to look for another?

It made him feel a little uneasy. Things which made him happy never lasted; Legolas had learned that lesson well. Surely matters could not stay like this, and something would soon happen - something that would change Glorfindel's behavior. Still, he decided, he would not mind that much if Glorfindel returned to his former self, if only he would not get angry with him again. After all, it would be better than losing Glorfindel’s attention to other things... or other elves.

Legolas shuddered. No, he did not know what he would do if Glorfindel grew bored with him. But he did not know what he could do to keep Glorfindel’s attention either. The last weeks had always followed the same routine, and even Legolas himself had begun to feel slightly unsatisfied. Not that he craved the pain Glorfindel sometimes chose to inflict on him, but at the same time... somehow Glorfindel had always found a way to make Legolas enjoy it. Somehow, every time he had been forced to submit, he had been rewarded with pleasure and the feeling of being safe and cherished. And now that Glorfindel seemed almost remote, Legolas found himself almost wishing for those days of their relationship – then, at least, he had known that Glorfindel desired him.

His musings were finally interrupted by Elrond who stood up to lead them to the Hall of Fire. More wine was waiting for them there as well as scattered comfortable seating so small groups could gather to talk or listen to the musicians. With determined steps Glorfindel made his way over to a window where he sat down on the cushioned window-seat, pulling Legolas down to cuddle at his side.

The elf Glorfindel had been seated next to at dinner had followed them to continue her discussion with Glorfindel, and after a moment, Thalaron joined them as well. From their conversation Legolas gathered that she seemed to be the one the captain was currently courting – rather successfully, Legolas gathered from her pleased smiles. Her name was Celairael and she was in charge of the correspondence with the libraries of other realms. Apparently, she had just managed to acquire several valuable scrolls which Elrond had wanted for quite some time, and was now even regarded as an aspirant for a future position at Elrond’s council. In addition to these merits there were certain other assets which Legolas was certain had drawn Thalaron’s attention in the first place. The plunging neckline of her robe revealed a rather tempting décolleté, and together with her hip-length russet hair with its small, decorative braids, it was obvious why Thalaron was attracted to her.

Legolas decided that he liked her. Apart from a greeting, she had not tried to engage him in conversation, and – most importantly – she had neither insulted him nor shown him any loathing. Nevertheless he kept quiet. He was well aware that nobody in this room was interested in him and his thoughts; he was only an appendage to Glorfindel – pretty, even amusing as a sign of their enemies’ fall, but not someone to talk to. So he only moved a little closer to Glorfindel, smiling when the arm around his shoulder tightened. He let his gaze wander through the room, watching the groups of talking elves from the safety of Glorfindel’s side.

Then, suddenly, he felt eyes coming to rest on him, felt the familiar weight of a scrutinizing gaze run up and down his body. Legolas shivered and turned, trying to discover who was watching him so closely.

He had half expected to find either Erestor or Elladan giving him their usual look of cold derision, but the eyes that he found fixed on him belonged to none other than the returned advisor, Ellonúr, who now gave him an satisfied smile. “So you are Legolas Thranduilion?” he said loudly enough to make heads turn to him. “I have heard a great many things about you.”

18

Legolas flinched, the heat from the wine fleeing his cheeks as he felt the attention of the room come to rest on him. Glorfindel was abruptly pulled from his discussion and he turned to face the advisor, his arm never leaving its position around Legolas’ shoulders. The youth did not quite know what he should say or do now, as he had no idea as to what the former captive wanted from him. There was no open derision or hate on his face, yet nevertheless Legolas was sure that the advisor did not mean him well.

Overall, he did not look very threatening – unlike most of the warriors he knew, Ellonúr was rather slight, both smaller and more slender than Glorfindel. While the braids he wore were those of a warrior, keeping the hair out of his eyes and from interfering in a fight, they were also decorated with fine jewelry as was befitting his position. The festive robes he wore hid most of his body, yet there was a certain tensed grace to his every movement which Legolas had so far only seen in experienced warriors like Glorfindel. Yes, this elf was dangerous... Legolas had no doubt that no matter what the situation, Ellonúr would always be prepared to draw weapon, here in the Hall of Fire as well as outside while on patrol.

Yes, I am Legolas," he heard himself answer - perhaps in a voice that was too soft, but at least it did not shake and betray the fear the advisor’s question had caused him. He returned the gaze of the Noldo with pretended calmness, although his fingers were cramped around the hem of Glorfindel’s wide sleeve.

Ellonúr continued to smile, but his expression became slightly derisive as he came closer, looking Legolas up and down. “I can tell you, your father was not very happy when the news reached him that you ran away to Imladris.” Curiously, the advisor studied Legolas and took in the way he clung to Glorfindel’s side. “I got to know your father quite well during my time in Mirkwood, but you are nothing like him... I have to say that even though your father’s men tried hard to break me, I could never quite stop feeling some admiration for your father. After all, despite the disagreements between our realms, he has long remained a wise and steadfast ruler to your people…” His voice trailed off and he seemed to become lost in a memory of something, but Legolas was far too distracted by the mention of his father to notice anything. He tried desperately to keep from showing the hurt these words had caused, but when Ellonúr’s smile grew brighter, he knew that it had been in vain. Then Glorfindel got up from their seat and stepped in front of Legolas, using his body to shield him from view.

“We are all glad that you have returned to us, Ellonúr,” he said gently, but his eyes darkened as he observed the advisor’s smile. “While I am certain that you have more than enough reason to hate the Sindar after what has been done to you, I do hope that you realize that none of this has been Legolas’ fault. He is mine... and I think that you have learned to respect my property.”

The advisor was still smiling, although his expression now changed – the derision he had greeted Legolas with became a warm, almost intimate smile as he took yet another step and raised a hand to rest it on Glorfindel’s shoulder. “_Mellon nín_,” he said, speaking so softly that only Glorfindel and Legolas could understand him. “I have suffered greatly, yet all I have been able to think about since I was freed is the time I spent with you and the feel of the cane in your hand... do not tell me that this shaking child here satisfies all of your needs. I know your tastes just as you know mine. Please my lord, I beg you, allow me to offer my body to you. I find myself yearning for something to burn away the memory of my captivity. Will you not help me?”

  
Slowly, Glorfindel shook his head, his eyes filled with compassion as he rested one hand against Ellonúr’s cheek in a fleeting caress. “Surely there are others you can go to... you always loved to play, and you were never satisfied with just one. I know that you have never been without partners before, so there must be others who will have you.”

“Is this a no?” Ellonúr asked. There was a growing distress in his voice when he realized his proposition was being rejected. “You have never denied me before! Can you not see what has happened to me? Do you not know what it is that I need?”

“I know what you think you need, but I cannot give it to you anymore!” Glorfindel took a step back and shook his head. “I am not the right person for this... it would not be a good thing for either of us."

  
Ellonúr snorted, then watched with jealous eyes when Glorfindel pulled Legolas against his side, holding him close in a clear demonstration of where his affections now rested. The young prince was confused and embarrassed at being pulled into the center of attention once more, but at the same time he felt the anger build within him. He did not know what was happening here, neither who Ellonúr was nor what he was talking about, but it seemed that at one time, this beautiful Noldor had been Glorfindel’s lover. Legolas did not know what kind of history connected them, and it did not matter anymore, as Glorfindel was his. He glared at the advisor when he felt those arrogant eyes come to rest on him yet again and was rewarded with soft laughter.

“Oh, little prince, are you afraid of losing your position as a pampered pet? Do not look at me like that, you should know by now what it is you need to do to keep Glorfindel happy... and you had better try hard to keep him happy because your father has said that he will never allow you to return to Mirkwood after your dirty lusts brought such shame to his house.”

It took a moment for Legolas to fully realized what the advisor had just said.... but then his memories took hold of him. He still remembered what it had been like to be forced to tell his father; he still felt pain and utter humiliation at having been slapped and called "whore" by his own father, in front of his counselors, when he was exiled. It had not been true what his father had said then – he had had no choice when Glorfindel first took him by force that summer day over a year earlier! Even though his father still believed the worst about him, it wasn’t true! His father knew nothing about what really happened, and neither did this advisor. It was frustrating and it made him livid.

“Take that back!” Legolas yelled and jumped forward, pushing so hard against Ellonúr’s body that the advisor stumbled a few steps backward before he could catch himself. “You have no right to say such things!” The youth blinked furiously but could not keep the tears back. They ran down his cheeks, hot and wet and shameful in front of all the gathered Noldor. It only made him hate this elf more – he had hurt him, humiliated him and even worse, he was threatening to take away the only one here who cared for him. If Glorfindel decided to take Ellonúr's offer, then where did that leave Legolas? “I am not dirty...” he whispered in a choked voice.

  
“Yes, you will take that back,” Glorfindel said darkly as he pulled Legolas back against his body to calm him. He grasped the front of Ellonúr’s robe with his other hand. “And you will apologize – this is a Prince of Mirkwood you are talking to. You will show him respect, or I will be forced to teach it to you!”

It was easy to see how amusement was replaced by confusion on Ellonúr’s face when he realized how different the situation was from what he had expected. For a long moment he held Glorfindel’s gaze, but finally he gave in when he realized that something had changed about the seneschal he had known. “Very well,” he said, his voice suddenly cold, “I apologize. I was not aware of the situation here. I will make certain to reacquaint myself with the changes in this household before I approach you again.” He freed himself from Glorfindel's hand and turned away, pushing through the curious group that had gathered around them, and moved to the other side of the room where Elrond and Erestor were talking to the musicians.

Glorfindel sighed and shook his head, then frowned when he realized that Legolas was still pressed against him as if he were unable to stand on his own. “You could have handled that better!” he chastised, “there was no need to yell, and even less of a need to attack the guest of honor, even if he did insult you!” Legolas sniffled and shook his head, then turned to hide his face from view against Glorfindel’s chest.

“He deserved it! He enjoyed hurting me...” His voice was muffled by the robe, and Glorfindel frowned again. He pushed Legolas away so he could look at him, then sighed when he finally realized why the youth had been so easy to provoke. “You are drunk, Legolas!” he said sharply. “Do not deny it, I can see it in your eyes! I allowed you one drink, yet I can see that you have had more, even though you knew that this was an important event!”

“Why should I care?” Legolas retorted and tried to pull away from the golden-haired elf. “No matter what I do, it does not change what they think of me! Leave me alone then, I will go back, and you can go and talk with Ellonúr - I am sure he will not embarrass you like I do!” There were still tears running down his cheeks although his eyes were dark with helpless anger – at Glorfindel, at Ellonúr and most of all at himself. Again he tried to free himself, but Glorfindel had had enough and pulled him back with a growl.

“I am tired of this!” the seneschal declared angrily and then pushed Legolas forward, in direction of the door. “I will not have you embarrass us both! You are not fit for company and will return to our room. And I hope that you will be able to give me a good explanation for all of this, or else I will find a way to make you regret your behaviour!”

19

Glorfindel was still angry when he closed the door to the hallway, and once he had pulled Legolas through the sitting room into their bedroom, he pushed the youth towards the bed. For a moment, he glared at Legolas, then began pacing. “Let me see... you got drunk although you knew that this was an important event. You lost control over yourself in front of all the important members of this household, shouting at the guest of honor. Even worse, you have embarrassed me in front of my lord and the guests! You are my responsibility, and your actions this evening have made it very apparent to everybody that I am not capable of controlling you. So many offenses, Legolas – can you tell me what it is that I am supposed to do with you?”

Legolas glared back at him, rubbing furiously at his eyes to get rid of the humiliating tears. “Why is this my fault? He insulted me! He had no right to say those things to me! And then he, he.... asked you those questions! As if I didn’t even exist! But I will not stay silent when I am insulted!”

“Stop!” Glorfindel interrupted furiously. “What are you, a little child? It is not your fault because he was the one who started it? No, be silent, Legolas! You are old enough to know that you cannot counter one insult with another! I told Ellonúr that he was wrong to address you so, and the situation would have ended peacefully had you remained calm.”

"You cannot expect me to just quietly suffer their insults!" Legolas said and jumped up, only to be pushed down back onto the bed by a glowering Glorfindel.

“Stop acting like a child, Legolas! I took you to the feast, I put those braids in your hair, I defended you from Ellonúr! Tell me, when did I give you the impression that I wanted a silent, meek little pet at my side? No, you had my support, my protection, but all you managed to do is to feel sorry for yourself! You disappointed me this evening Legolas- truly, I had high expectations for you, but you ruined it.” Still glaring at Legolas, Glorfindel grabbed a fistful of his hair and angrily yanked him up by it. “Tell me, what should I do with you? Oh, I want to...“ For a moment, Glorfindel’s fingers tightened their grip in the hair while he closed his eyes, trembling with tension. Then he suddenly pushed Legolas down and took a few steps back, his hands again clenching into trembling fists while he turned his gaze away from the youth. It took a visible effort for him to contain himself, but despite his anger he held himself back, shaking with sheer frustration.

Legolas laid sprawled on the bed, staring up at Glorfindel. Confusion, fear and indignation warred on his face until he finally sat up, frowning as he studied the golden-haired lord. This was the closest Glorfindel had come to losing control in several weeks; ever since he had taken him in anger that one night, Glorfindel had somehow reined in his temper. Legolas was well aware that the past weeks had been frustrating for Glorfindel; there were certain things the elf lord craved that he had denied himself.

But now the situation had changed... Ellonúr’s offer had been very obvious, and by accepting it, Glorfindel could have what he wanted. And what would happen if he did? What place would Legolas have then - either here in Imladris or in Glorfindel's heart? To passively do nothing was to risk all that he had. If he did not want to lose Glorfindel to Ellonúr, he would have to give his lord what he needed... even if that meant submitting to whatever humiliation Glorfindel might choose as punishment.

“You should punish me.”

Glorfindel whipped his head around to stare at him, and for a moment Legolas himself was surprised to hear this sentence come from his lips. Nevertheless, it was the truth – it was what Glorfindel needed and had missed for so long, and deep in his heart Legolas knew that Glorfindel needed an outlet for his ever-growing frustration. If it meant that Glorfindel would hurt him, then he would have to bear the pain – it could not be worse than losing Glorfindel’s regard. “Yes...” the young prince repeated softly, sitting up on the bed, “yes, you should, my Lord. You are right, I deserve it...”

Glorfindel took a step towards him, disbelief warring with anger on his face. “Do you realize what you are asking? I am very displeased with you, Legolas...” Glorfindel warned in a quiet voice.

Legolas nodded, afraid to speak, but he held Glorfindel’s gaze for a long moment. The Noldo’s face was pale, although his eyes burned bright with anger. Suddenly, Legolas felt apprehensive. Glorfindel had restrained himself for so long – what had made him think that the warrior would give into his needs now?

But the events in the Hall of Fire had kindled Glorfindel’s anger to bright fire, and roused the need within him to such a point that he finally nodded, satisfied with what he had read in Legolas’ eyes. “If you are certain that you want this, then stand up,” he commanded, and sat down on the bed in Legolas’ stead. “Undress, and kneel before me.”

Legolas briefly hesitated, and then proceeded to strip hastily as if to make up for the delay. When he was naked he sank to his knees in front of his lord, looking up for further instructions. He tried his best to hide the fear he could not quite suppress, but Glorfindel gave him a knowing look and raised a hand to run it through Legolas’ hair.

“I will hurt you, but I promise that I will not harm you," Glorfindel said softly, and then withdrew his hand. He watched Legolas through half-lidded eyes until the youth started to tremble, and then gifted him with a dark, threatening smile. “So... what shall I do with you now?”

“Anything you wish, my Lord,” Legolas whispered and lowered his eyes.

“That is the kind of attitude I would have liked to have seen this evening!” Glorfindel said and shook his head. “But instead you chose to behave like a spoiled little child! I have told you this before – as long as you behave like a child, I will punish you like one. Now bring me my brush, the golden one, it is on top of that black chest there. And you will stay on your knees while you get it...”

Glorfindel smirked when Legolas blushed. Nevertheless, the youth crawled towards the chest as commanded, but when he reached for the brush, Glorfindel interrupted him again.

“Did I allow you to use your hands? Use your mouth, roch-neth... it is such a lovely mouth, and you do too much talking anyway!”

Legolas’ cheeks reddened even more and for the first time since he had offered himself up for punishment, Glorfindel detected a glimmer of rebellion in his eyes. Still Legolas returned to him, crawling on hands and knees with the brush between his lips. It was a lovely picture, and Glorfindel found himself enjoying it far more than he would have imagined. He spread his legs a little to accomodate his growing hardness, then examined the kneeling youth in front of him. The slender, pale body so pleasing to behold, shivering lightly with fear, or perhaps it was excitement...

Glorfindel noted Legolas' growing arousal with some amusement, but did not comment on it; Legolas' embarrassment was already very obvious. “Very good, hên lend. You are very appealing like this!” He took the brush from Legolas’ mouth, caressing the moist lower lip with a quick swipe of his thumb. “Do you know what I’m going to do to you now? I’m going to spank you with this brush, roch-neth, and I won’t stop until your pretty little behind is all sore and red. Perhaps that will help you to remember to think before you speak the next time! But first,” Glorfindel smirked, “I want to hear you beg to be punished!”

Legolas stiffened, then sighed when he remembered just what had led him to this state. “Please, my Lord,” he said softly, “I deserve this... please punish me.” He looked up to see the response to his begging but Glorfindel was frowning and shaking his head. So Legolas tried again, tentatively resting his cheek on Glorfindel’s thigh. “Please,” he whispered, “please, do not hold back... I deserve your anger. I have displeased you, my Lord – punish me in the way that I deserve, and teach me how to please you better!”

“This is a good beginning, pen-neth... yes, for now it will suffice. There will be other opportunities to teach you how to beg....” Glorfindel threatened and then pulled Legolas up to sprawl over his lap. “You can cry all you want, but I will not stop until I think that you have had enough!” he warned and then gathered Legolas’ wrists in one hand to press them into the bed over his head. “You will leave your hands here – move them and I will bind them!”

Legolas nodded helplessly. He had no other choice but to simply accept what Glorfindel did to him... he could not even rise as the Noldo’s hand now let go of his wrists and instead came to rest on his back, holding him in place.

And then the brush connected with his backside for the first time. Legolas yelped; he could not help himself. It stung, worse than when Glorfindel used his hand... but it was not as bad as the day when the Noldo had used his belt. Nevertheless it left behind a feeling of heat, smarting and throbbing and painful until the brush came down again and another jolt of hot, stinging pain made him twitch. He remembered that Glorfindel had told him not to move his hands, so by sheer force of will he kept them still while the rest of his body jerked and writhed under the stinging slaps.

There was no escape; the brush came down again and again with enough force to bruise – at least that was what it felt like to Legolas. It soon felt as if his entire bottom had to be glowing red, but still Glorfindel did not stop, not even when Legolas began to sob softly. No matter how much he writhed and tried to turn, the brush always came down again on the by now tender skin. It hurt even more now; the entire area was so sensitive that the slaps were far worse than in the beginning. And still Glorfindel did not stop, although Legolas was begging now and crying out with each slap. When Legolas finally ceased to resist and lay still, accepting the pain from which he could not escape while crying softly into his arms, only then did Glorfindel cease.

For a long moment, the only sound that could be heard was Legolas’ helpless sobbing, while Glorfindel laid the brush aside and then began to stroke his hair. Legolas was still hard – the spanking had not diminished his arousal, and he could feel Glorfindel’s answering erection against his thigh. It was all too much – the pain, the heat from his abused skin and the dark excitement that was still there. Legolas whimpered, humiliated. Why did his body betray him so? And why was he still aroused?

“Do not cry, roch-neth...” Glorfindel soothed and pulled Legolas into his arms. The youth buried his head beneath Glorfindel’s chin, pressing himself tightly against the body of the Noldo. “You have been very good! You kept your arms where I told you –I did not have to correct you even once! You pleased me, pen-neth...”

Legolas continued to sob against Glorfindel’s shoulder, but after some minutes had passed, Glorfindel began to gently stroke his backside. His fingertips ghosted over the hot skin, and although the sensation was painful, it was also very intense. Legolas moaned softly. It hurt, despite the lightness of the touch, but at the same time his skin was so sensitive now that not only the pain but also the pleasure increased...

Glorfindel smiled as if he knew what Legolas was experiencing and then used a fingernail to lightly scratch over the hot skin. “Have you had enough, roch-neth? Or is there something else that you want?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

hên lend - sweet child

roch-neth - colt

pen-neth - young one

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

20

20

Legolas whimpered. It hurt, even the light scratches made his sore skin burn... but at the same time, the intense sensation also made him moan softly. For a long moment he stayed motionless in Glorfindel’s embrace, shuddering and gasping against his throat while he felt the nails tease his skin. Finally he let go of Glorfindel’s robe and looked up into his eyes which had become dark with lust. But it was not just lust that he could read in his lord’s gaze, no... there was also amusement and a warmth that almost made him forget about the pain. Despite his tears he shyly smiled up at the Noldo as he slid from his lap, sinking to his knees to kneel before him.

“I want to please you... would this please you, my lord?” he asked softly, and although his voice trembled he did not hesitate to press a gentle kiss to where Glorfindel’s hardness fought against its confines.

“Oh yes,“ Glorfindel groaned, “yes, that would please me very much indeed… go ahead, roch-neth!”

Carefully, Legolas parted Glorfindel's robe until he uncovered the leggings the lord wore beneath. There was a noticable bulge in their front, and a damp spot which told Legolas that the warrior had indeed enjoyed disciplining him. When Legolas finally freed Glorfindel’s erection, he found it hard and red, the tip already moist with droplets of clear fluid that kept leaking from the slit.

When Legolas gathered those drops with his tongue, Glorfindel groaned and threw his head back. Legolas smiled at seeing the lord so abandoned to his pleasure... it was not often that Legolas could watch Glorfindel like this. Again he licked over the tip, paying special attention to the small opening from which more of the bitter fluid leaked, as each touch there made Glorfindel groan and shudder. The lord allowed him to take his time and tease him, but finally Glorfindel seemed to have had enough and rested a hand on his head. He did not force him to take his entire length into his mouth, but Legolas understood the unspoken command and moved to worship the entirety of the hard shaft with his mouth. He gave long, slow licks up and down the swollen length, then finally took the tip into his mouth to suckle on it while his hands stroked the root of the shaft.

Glorfindel moaned with appreciation; he slowly let himself sink back on the bed but still kept his hand in Legolas’ hair. Gently he pulled at a strand – there was not enough force behind it to hurt, but Legolas realized that he should not tease Glorfindel much longer. So he took a deep breath and then took more of Glorfindel into his mouth, concentrating on breathing through his nose and not accidentally hurting Glorfindel with his teeth. It seemed to work, as the Noldo was now making soft moans of pleasure and had let go of the strand, petting him instead to show his approval.

Legolas kept his eyes open, looking up to catch glimpses of Glorfindel’s face to drink in the vision of the golden lord lost in his pleasure, reduced to moans and sighs as his head moved restlessly on the coverlet. Legolas realized in that moment that he had never before seen anything as beautiful as this – and there could not exist anything more beautiful on all of Arda, he was sure. Glorfindel was hot and powerful in his mouth, and Legolas wanted to worship him until he spilled himself down his throat - wanted to swallow his essence and show his adoration - but then Glorfindel opened his eyes again and smiled at him.

“Enough, roch-neth,” he sighed, and gently pushed Legolas away so that the youth had to let his erection slip from his mouth. “Enough, I do not want to spill myself in your mouth... Undress me, and then I will use you the way the Valar intended you to be used.”

Leglas almost moaned aloud, both from the image the Noldo’s words created and also from disappointment at being hindered from tasting the lord’s essence. That disappointment did not last very long, though, as he realized what Glorfindel had just ordered him to do...

Disrobing Glorfindel was always like unwrapping a present, Legolas thought. He reverently stripped the lord of his robes and leggings, stopping now and then to press small kisses of worship onto the newly bared, powerful body. Glorfindel was indeed beautiful, the epitome of a warrior, and Legolas could almost imagine what he must have looked like when he faced the Balrog, clad in his armor with the symbol of his House gleaming in the fiery light.

He must have been the most beautiful and most adored warrior of Gondolin, Legolas thought hazily, and for a moment the prospect of being the one such a valiant lord desired seemed to be impossible... and then Glorfindel pulled him up and back onto the bed to lay on top of his now-nude body and kissed him deeply. Legolas moaned and tried to move even closer into the Noldo’s embrace, forgetting all about Gondolin and warriors. What mattered was only that he pleased Glorfindel, that he did whatever the lord wanted him to do, so that Glorfindel would caress him and kiss him and hold him close...

“Ai, roch-neth, roch-neth nín...” Glorfindel moaned between his passionate kisses. “I want you... I want to take you so hard that you will cry my name! I will make you cry, little one, I will make you shed tears, so hard will I take you, and you won’t be able to do anything but surrender to me and my lust, because you are mine!”

Legolas shuddered and moaned; Glorfindel could feel Legolas’ length twitch against his thigh. The Noldo grinned and then suddenly rolled over so that he had the youth pinned beneath him. “Spread your legs,” he growled into his ear. “I want to take you now!”

Legolas obeyed, trembling a little when he felt Glorfindel’s hardness brush against his own. Then the Noldo’s hot length slid against his cleft, and before Legolas could even try to relax for what was to come, Glorfindel had already pushed forward and buried himself to the hilt with one violent thrust.

Legolas cried out in pain and gripped Glorfindel’s arms; he trembled and sobbed at the burning sensation of being stretched so suddenly. But Glorfindel’s only answer was a soft, breathless laugh before he began to use him as hard as he had promised.

Legolas closed his eyes and gave himself up to whatever Glorfindel wanted to do with him. He wrapped his legs around the Noldo’s waist to allow him to thrust deeper; his hands clutched at Glorfindel’s shoulders. Every sensation was shadowed by the pain of his aching body, but at the same time now it was almost as if he could feel it everywhere whenever Glorfindel’s length hit that spot within him.

The hot burning of his still hurting backside as well as the almost unbearable friction of Glorfindel’s hard shaft inside him changed to another feeling altogether, until nothing else seemed to exist in the world but Glorfindel. His strong body, his unique scent of alluring musk and sun-warmed glades, the sound of his groans... Legolas lost himself in it. Glorfindel’s golden hair fell down around him like a curtain that kept them apart from the rest of the world. For a long time Glorfindel continued to take what was his, while Legolas lay trembling and helpless beneath him while the sensations built, until finally he was overwhelmed.

He cried out Glorfindel’s name while he shuddered and came, and the Noldo stopped briefly to wait until Legolas had calmed again. Then he began moving once more, taking Legolas with violent thrusts while the youth lay helplessly beneath him. Legolas whimpered each time he was filled – he was no longer aroused, but instead of the lust there was now a new feeling that made him arch up and cling to Glorfindel. His body seemed to float with the knowledge that he belonged to Glorfindel, that the Noldo owned him and that he took pleasure from his body. It made Legolas nearly swoon to feel his lord’s passion for him and he continued to bear his untamed lust without giving voice to the discomfort he felt.

Glorfindel took his time, almost as if he wanted to assert his claim over Legolas, but finally, he could hold back no longer. He bit hard into Legolas' shoulder, leaving red marks, as he buried himself deep inside the youth with one last hard thrust, finally reaching release. “You are mine, cunneth, never forget that...” he groaned as he collapsed on top of him.

Legolas wrapped his arms around Glorfindel’s neck and deeply breathed in the scent of his hair. “Yes, my lord...” he sighed, and then they were silent, listening to the sound of their heartbeats, their bodies still joined.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
roch-neth - colt  
roch-neth nín - my colt  
cunneth - princeling  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  



	3. Chapters 21-30

21

Legolas was not sure what he had expected their life to be like after that night, but he had not expected it to be like this. He was enjoying himself, and he actually looked forward to spending his time with Glorfindel – except for the lessons, of course, as those were almost as boring as before. Although there was one thing that had changed about them... Now that Glorfindel was no longer afraid to punish him, Legolas had quickly learned to concentrate on whatever task Glorfindel set him. On the few occasions when he let his attention slip away to dream about other things, he later had to pay when his bottom turned red under Glorfindel’s hands – although this punishment would also inevitably end with pleasure for both of them when they abandoned the study for their bed. After this happened a few times, Legolas took care to always pay attention, and Glorfindel changed his lessons to make them more interesting for Legolas.

As Glorfindel’s idea of interesting also encompassed certain Quenyan phrases which made Legolas blush, their hours of studying often ended in their bedroom – or on whatever flat surface was closest. It pleased Glorfindel to make Legolas wait for his release until he begged for it in grammatically correct Quenya, and so Legolas’ vocabulary was enriched by phrases and words which he was sure he would never read in the Quenyan manuscripts in Elrond’s library.

But they did not spend all of their time over old books and manuscripts. In the afternoons, they would often go for a ride, or play with their son in the garden. Gîlríon had by now learned to stand and walk, and it was one of his favourite games to run through the gardens or the wood with his parents chasing behind him, trying to catch him before he could hurt himself.

But Gîlríon had also made progress in other areas. Several weeks ago, he had uttered his first word, and Legolas, whose biggest fear it had been to be labelled nana by his son, was relieved to be called ada. Often Glorfindel had jokingly called the Sindarin prince a mother, knowing all too well how it infuriated Legolas to be seen as a female, and so Legolas had both wished for and at the same time dreaded their son’s first words.

Nevertheless, it seemed as if Glorfindel had only teased Legolas with the threat of being called a mother, while at the same time searching for a way for their son to address them. And he seemed to have found a solution he liked, for as soon as Glorfindel entered the room, Gîlríon began to squirm in Legolas’ arms and called out for his atto. Legolas was surprised, and immensely relieved. And while he watched Glorfindel kissing and praising their little star, he realized that Glorfindel must have secretly spent some time teaching their son that word.

“Atto?” Legolas asked with smile that was at once thankful and amused, for Glorfindel had tormented him with the notion of being called nana for quite some time.

Glorfindel smiled back, tickling Gîlríon until he was squirming and giggling. “Yes... he cannot call both of us ada, that would be too confusing for him. And why should he not call me by the same name I used for my father when I was as old as our star is?”

Legolas smiled but kept silent as he watched Glorfindel, who was obviously proud to see Gîlríon speak, and full of love for the golden-haired child that had been given to them.

In this way, autumn passed almost too quickly as the days were filled with lessons in lore and warfare for Legolas and the remaining time was spent with their son, whose ever-growing energy and curiosity managed to keep both of his parents busy.

One afternoon in late autumn found Legolas and Glorfindel outside in the sun, with Gîlríon sleeping between them. Although it was probably one of the last fair days of the year, there was still the scent of flowers in the air. The protection of Vilya granted the valley green grass and flowers from spring until the end of autumn, but it could – or would – not protect them from the cold and ice of winter. Soon the days would grow grey and rainy, and then the first snow would fall to lull nature into a deep, well-earned sleep, until Arien’s warmth would wake the valley again in spring.

But this one afternoon, it was still so warm in the sunshine that several elves had taken off their tunics to let the rays of sunshine warm their bare skin. Glorfindel and Legolas were sitting beneath an apple tree that had been relieved of its heavy burden just days ago. On the wide, grass-covered slope in front of them many of Imladris’ inhabitants were sitting, talking and eating as they enjoyed the beautiful day. Even the Lord of the Valley had joined them; he sat together with Ellonúr and several other Noldor in a half-circle around a minstrel who had brought his lyre outside to entertain Elrond.

The sweet sounds of the song filled the valley, carrying over to where Legolas and Glorfindel sat and watched their son sleeping peacefully in the sunlight. Earlier he had wandered through the high grass, following a small bird that kept hopping away until Glorfindel came to rescue it from its pursuer. Now that they finally had a moment of respite from their son’s unending curiosity, they were content to silently sit next to each other, enjoying the warmth of the sunshine while watching the group surrounding the minstrel.

Legolas’ gaze rested on Elrond. Earlier, he had been in an animated conversation with Ellonúr; they had even heard him laugh out loud a few times. It had been a long time since Legolas had last seen the lord of the valley so relaxed; if he thought back, he had not seen Elrond smile ever since the dreadful day of his falling out with his seneschal.

Glorfindel sighed. His eyes had followed Legolas’ gaze to see Elrond staring wistfully at where the three of them were resting under the old apple tree. Before their quarrel, he would have joined them, but now Elrond stayed with the other elves. Glorfindel knew that Elrond felt lonely; he knew what it was like to be surrounded by people who would only speak with the utmost reverence and politeness and never disagree with something their lord said. That was one of the reasons they had become friends so fast – both were glad to have found someone they could be honest with even if this candor often led to disagreements.

Glorfindel raised a hand to run it through Legolas’ hair, then rested it on his cheek, gently stroking over the soft skin with his thumb. “Would you mind if I went over to Elrond for a moment? Be careful that Gîlríon does not escape you again; I do not think that he has given up on that bird.”

“Of course, my lord,” Legolas said and watched Glorfindel with barely veiled curiosity. Glorfindel sighed and shook his head, giving Legolas a small smile.

“Do not fear; I do not plan to throttle or otherwise kill the Lord of Imladris in front of all of his subjects – I just think that it is time we should talk again. I have not yet forgiven him for breaking my trust, but I do not think that we can just go on ignoring each other.”

Legolas smiled back at Glorfindel, barely able to hide how pleased he was by this openness. This was probably another sign that Glorfindel was beginning to dearly miss his friend and confidant for although he had spoken freely to Legolas about many thing over the last several weeks, Glorfindel never once broached the subject of the events of that particular day. Secretly Legolas wondered if he still blamed himself for what had occurred that night and tried to pretend that it had never happened by not talking about what had set that event in motion.

Legolas knew that he had not been entirely innocent that day and he still felt guilty for not protesting immediately. But Glorfindel had never asked him for a reason why he had not resisted Elrond, and so Legolas preferred not to think about it at all.

Legolas wondered what would happen if Elrond and Glorfindel finally resolved their problems. Perhaps then Glorfindel would once more become interested in his role in that little drama. Legolas did not look forward to the conversation they would have should Glorfindel ever bring those events up again. Nevertheless he knew that things between Elrond and Glorfindel could not continue the way they were right now. After all, Glorfindel was the one responsible for Imladris’ defense – in the long run, the valley could only continue to flourish if those two managed to somehow rebuild their friendship.

While Legolas was thinking about this, Gîlríon woke up, and his interest was immediately captured by a huge, black bug that was crawling up a long blade of grass. Gîlríon giggled when the bug spread its wings to fly away to more promising places, and Legolas sighed. He tried to interest his son in a large, hairy caterpillar that at least would not tempt him to run after it. When Legolas looked up again, he saw that Glorfindel had sat down next to Elrond while the group of elves had respectfully moved a short distance away from them. From what Legolas could see of them, their conversation seemed rather awkward, with many unpleasant pauses, but at least they were talking again.

Legolas was relieved. Although he still felt somewhat angry and betrayed if he thought about what Elrond had done, he would find a way to live with it. It was more important that the two lords were once again on speaking terms. And perhaps, during the long, cold winter that was waiting for them, the two Noldor would find a way to slowly rebuild what had been so suddenly destroyed.

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
atto – affectionate form of father [Quenya]  
ada – affectionate form of father [Sindarin]  
nana – affectionate form of mother [Sindarin]  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
If you wonder why Gîlríon is already able to talk and run, although he is only half a year old: According to Morgoth's Ring: Laws and Customs of the Eldar elvish children acquire these abilities rather quickly:

“The Eldar grew in bodily form slower than Men, but in mind more swiftly. They learned to speak before they were one year old; and in the same time they learned to walk and to dance, for their wills came soon to the mastery of their bodies.” p 209

A mortal watching Elf children at play “…might indeed have wondered at the small limbs and stature of these children, judging their age by their skill in words and grace in motion. For at the end of the third year mortal children began to outstrip the Elves, hastening on to a full stature while the Elves lingered in the first spring of childhood. Children of Men might reach their full height while Eldar of the same age were still in body like to mortals of no more than seven years. Not until the fiftieth year did the Eldar attain the stature and shape in which their lives would afterwards endure, and in some a hundred years would pass before they were full grown.” P 210

22

Legolas was panting, his breath a white cloud hanging in the cold air. Winter had finally arrived and the valley was covered with snow, yet that did not stop Thalaron from driving his students even harder. Only some weeks ago had Legolas finally been allowed to join the other youth in their training fights, and although in the beginning he had feared that they would use this opportunity to hurt or disgrace him, it had gone amazingly well. Partly that was something he had to thank Glorfindel for, as the seneschal was now often present on the training ground. On the other hand, Thalaron usually punished any behaviour that was meant to humiliate, either with even harder training, or else with a duel against himself - one that inevitably ended with the culprit lying defeated and aching on the ground.

Today once again Glorfindel arrived near the end of their training session to watch Legolas’ progress. While the young Sinda had again lost to the Noldorin youth he was partnered with, his defensive moves as well as the occasional attack showed how much he had profited from Thalaron’s teaching. Glorfindel clearly saw the influence of Thalaron in Legolas’ movements and gave the captain an acknowledging nod while the youths gathered their equipment and then left the training field together with the older warrior. Legolas was the only one to stay behind, still sweaty and out of breath as he curiously looked at his lord.

“That was good, _pen neth_, I can see that you are getting much better!” Legolas smiled, then yelped in surprise when Glorfindel grabbed a handful of his hair to pull him into a demanding kiss. “And now I am hungry... for you, little one. Do you even know how delectable you look when you are fighting? It is a pity Thalaron does not really see your beauty, otherwise you could use it to your advantage in a fight!” Glorfindel laughed when Legolas blushed, and then pulled him forward until they reached a group of trees and bushes which would hide them from view.

There Glorfindel pushed Legolas up against one of the trees so that Legolas had to embrace the rough, frozen trunk with his arms. “So, _roch neth nín_, what do you think I should do with you? We are alone here... I could do anything I want with you, and nobody would notice!”

Legolas shuddered. “Please, my lord... what if Thalaron returns, or one of the other youths? Please let me go, my lord...”

“Ah, but do not forget that I can feel you tremble, my pretty one – are you excited, I wonder?” Glorfindel smiled when he realized that it was arousal as much as fear that made Legolas’ heart beat faster. “Perhaps you would even like it if somebody were to see you like this, surrendering to me...”

“No!” Legolas gasped, growing harder with every word that was whispered into his ear. Glorfindel was now opening the lacing of his leggings with barely suppressed impatience, tugging so hard that Legolas was afraid that the cloth would give any moment and force him to return to their rooms half naked.

Finally Glorfindel succeeded and pulled the leggings down with an impatient growl, then opened his own ties so that his hard flesh sprang free. He laughed when he forced Legolas’ thighs apart with his legs, excited by the thought of taking the prince like this. Legolas’ pale buttocks were bared to him, smooth and unblemished and far too tempting... He gripped them, kneading the yielding flesh until Legolas whimpered and then pulled them apart to reveal the tight, rosy entrance. "Have you prepared yourself for me this morning?" Glorfindel breathed into Legolas' ear. He rubbed himself against Legolas’ cleft, the slick tip already nudging the youth’s opening.

Legolas shuddered and tightened his grip on the tree. “Yes, I have...” he answered breathlessly and then moaned when Glorfindel’s shaft forced itself into him. Legolas was hard, and feeling Glorfindel’s thickness sliding into him, slowly and insistently taking possession of him, was enough to make him forget any fears about being discovered. He whimpered, helpless against the wave of ecstasy that rushed through him when Glorfindel was fully sheathed, with the head of his erection pressing against that place deep within him.

“Please!” Legolas begged, then whimpered again, louder this time, when Glorfindel’s hands holding his hips forced him to stay motionless.

“Be silent!” Glorfindel growled into his ear and punished him with a light bite to the sensitive tip. “Or do you want someone to observe us after all?”

Legolas shook his head and rested his cheek against the rough bark of the tree, panting when Glorfindel pulled back and then pushed deep into him again. The Noldo quickly build up a hard and fast rhythm, groaning as he repeatedly drove himself in the youth’s tightness, while Legolas tried to stifle his moans against one of his arms.

With each of Glorfindel’s forceful thrusts Legolas was pushed against the tree so that his own hardness rubbed against the rough bark. It was not very comfortable, but Legolas was so aroused that the painful contact with the tree only increased the lust he felt.

It did not take long until they both came, Glorfindel spilling himself with a deep groan inside Legolas’ heated flesh, while the youth’s release dripped down the tree’s frozen bark.

Glorfindel sighed in satisfaction. “Dress yourself,” he finally said when he had pulled out of Legolas and tied his leggings. “And you need a bath... I can smell myself on you. It would not do to take you to dinner like this.”

  
Later that day, when it was time to join Elrond at his table, Glorfindel had another surprise for Legolas. Thalaron was sitting next to them, which made Legolas blush when he thought about what the warrior might have seen only some hours ago. Ellonúr was there as well, as was usual since his return from captivity. While he had been acting rather cold towards them since Glorfindel’s decision to not resume their former relations, he had nevertheless refrained from pursuing the seneschal’s affections since the events that had transpired in the Hall of Fire.

The only one who was missing was Elladan, who had joined a patrol to search for orcs - something he was doing far more often than his father liked, ever since his twin had left for Mirkwood. But Legolas was glad of it – without Elladan, dinner at Elrond’s table was almost peaceful, as even those who still hated the young Sinda would never show signs of it in Elrond’s presence.

“Legolas,” the Lord of the Last Homely House now addressed him, “a rider arrived from Mirkwood today, bringing me messages from my son. There is also a letter for you from your brother Celeirdúr.”

Legolas immediately sat up taller and smiled brightly when the lord handed him the letter. Glorfindel rested a hand on his shoulder, idly playing with a strand of hair, and began to discuss training schedules with Thalaron and Ellonúr. Legolas was strangely pleased by this display of trust. After all it would be well within Glorfindel’s rights to take the letter from him and read it through first to see if there was any dangerous content in his brother’s writings.

Instead Glorfindel went on talking about which route and what escort would be advisable for the next journey to Lórien, once the spring sun melted the snow and ice that made such a journey inadvisable for all but the most urgent messages. Usually the talk of journeys and patrols fascinated Legolas, who had never left Mirkwood apart from the desperate ride to Imladris. But that journey had not been for pleasure; he had been so afraid at that time, weak with hunger and grieved from suffering his father's condemnation, that he could remember little of the lands he had crossed during that long journey.

At that moment, however, the lure of hearing from his brother was far stronger than his curiosity about other realms, and so he did not listen to Glorfindel’s planning. Instead he hurriedly read through the lines Celeirdúr had penned, only to sigh softly when he arrived at his brother’s signature. Again he read through it, this time more slowly, savoring the news his brother brought and soaking up the words that spoke of the affection his brother still felt for him. However, there was no mention of their father, and Legolas knew that Thranduil still had not forgiven him – and probably never would.

Legolas sighed again and resolved not to brood about it anymore. Instead he tried to be happy about Celeirdúr’s questions about his young nephew, and dreamed of a time when his older brother might actually hold Gîlríon in his arms.

“Good news, Legolas?” Elrond asked with a tentative smile. Although his friendship with his seneschal was slowly mending, they were still not as close as they had once been. And so until now, Elrond had kept his distance from Legolas, to avoid putting further strain on the trust he was working to regain.

“Yes, my lord,” Legolas answered politely. “My brother is well...”

“That is good, then,” Elrond said with a sigh. No doubt he was thinking of his own son, now living far away at Thranduil’s court in Mirkwood as a hostage to ensure the peace. Legolas knew that Elrond deeply regretted the necessity of this arrangement. The Peredhel had told Glorfindel that he not only missed his son, but that he was also concerned about the other twin. It was becoming more and more obvious that Elrohir's absence was affecting Elladan, who grew more unsettled with every passing day. "

“At my request, Elrohir has sent me some scrolls he has copied, notes of healers who have dealt with male fertility before. He said that your brother helped him to obtain them, as all records of this nature are kept hidden by your father’s orders. That was truly very helpful, Legolas; I hope to find some information which will make it easier for you should you bear another child. Perhaps I will even find some way to prevent you from getting pregnant again too soon... if Glorfindel wishes this, of course.”

Legolas blushed. He was not comfortable to have his fertility talked about at the table, but he was grateful that his brother had gone against his father’s orders to help him. After Celeirdúr had been captured and brought to Imladris, Legolas had feared for a while that his oldest brother would never be able to forgive him. However, it now seemed that although Elladan's torture of him had brought his hatred for the Noldor to new heights, Celeirdúr had at least been partly able to overcome his loathing if he had cooperated with Elrohir.

“That is indeed good news, Elrond,” Glorfindel interjected. “I do not want Legolas to go through another pregnancy again so soon, so it would be best to wait another year or two. I do not want to risk harming him, though I would love more children. Gîl should not grow up alone.”

Legolas sighed, and Glorfindel could feel that the young Sinda did not share his enthusiasm. Still, Legolas loved their son more than anything, and Glorfindel was certain that he would love another child just as much, should the time come. Nevertheless, that time had not yet arrived, and in the meantime Glorfindel knew something which would restore his spirits...

“We have decided, Elrond... There will be twenty of us, which should be more than enough should we encounter orcs on our way. I want to take five of the younger guards so that they will get some experience, and the rest will be my most trusted warriors, to ensure your daughter’s safety.”

Elrond nodded. “We can talk about the route you have planned in more detail tomorrow, but you know that I trust in your abilities to protect Arwen. Nevertheless, the journey to Lórien is not short, and even if you wait until all the snow has melted you might yet still encounter late storms. Take more warriors with you, Glorfindel, even if it will slow your speed – the younger and inexperienced members of your party will be especially grateful for that, and you yourself might enjoy it as well to have some time for yourself. Also, I want you to take Ellonúr with you – he desires the counsel of the Lady of the Golden Wood, and his sword will be a valuable asset.”

Legolas looked at Glorfindel who did not seem very happy about that addition to his plans, but refrained from commenting on it as Ellonúr was sitting just across the table. And Legolas was not happy either – on the contrary, right now his emotions wavered between being angry, feeling betrayed and the very simple fear of being left alone in the realm of his enemies. Why did Glorfindel have to do this to him, and to their son? If he left for a journey to Lórien and back, it might be months before he returned...

“What do you say, Legolas?” Glorfindel inquired. “Would you like to see the Golden Wood, and sleep under a sky of _mellyrn_ leaves?”

Legolas stared at him in shock. “You want to take me with you?” he breathed while a smile spread over his face at the thought of seeing that fabled realm. But then another realization came. “What about Gîlríon? I cannot leave him alone for so long...”

“You can take him with you,” Elrond stated calmly. “He will be old enough for such a journey, and you will travel slowly under heavy guard. It was Glorfindel’s idea, and I think that he is right... You will enjoy the Golden Wood, and you might like to see your brother Galuron again, who will then have the chance to meet his nephew.”

Legolas looked questioningly at Glorfindel, who nodded with a smile, then laughed out loud when Legolas threw his arms around his neck. “Of course I would like that, my lord! Thank you!”

“Then work hard, little one, so that we can give you a sword of metal and not of wood for the journey!” Glorfindel said and pressed an affectionate kiss to the brow of the youth.

“I promise, my lord, I will do my best!” Legolas answered, already dreaming about the realm he had so far only visited in books, while Glorfindel once more turned to discuss the military aspects of the journey.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
_pen neth_ \- little one  
_roch neth nín_ \- my colt  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

  
23

Legolas still had to wait some very long months until the weather was stable enough to make the long trip to Lórien feasible with a young child. Glorfindel used that time to aquaint the prince with the hundreds of maps which were in Elrond's possession, and carefully instructed Legolas in how to use them to plan a journey. When the day of their departure had finally arrived, Legolas felt that even on his own he should be able to find the way to Lórien without any trouble.

Nevertheless Legolas was anxious at the thought of taking Gîlríon on such a long and possibly also perilous journey. Despite the end of the war, the roads outside of Elrond’s valley were still dangerous, and Legolas could not bear to even think of the possibility of an orc or warg attack on their little son. Still, now that they were surrounded by the warriors on their horses, that fear seemed unfounded. Glorfindel had taken all possible precautions – in fact, there had been times when even Legolas began to feel exasperated with the extent of Glorfindel's cautious preparations.

To safeguard them against the weather's whims, both he and his son had been given a new cloak made of a heavy, blue wool that was lined with the softest white fur. Together with the royal braids, which Glorfindel insisted on for formal occasions like their leave-taking of the Last Homely House and its Lord, Legolas indeed looked like a prince. And with the sword hanging from the belt around his hips he even felt like one, although he still could not believe that Glorfindel had truly gifted him with a weapon. The sword was old and not very impressive at first glance, but Legolas was in love with it nevertheless. When Glorfindel had given it to him he had even apologized for being unable to give him a nobler looking weapon, but as Legolas was still slighter than the average youth and had problems handling heavier swords, this was the only suitable blade they had been able to find in the armoury.

During the first days of their journey, the weather was beautiful and Legolas did not need the heavy cloak. For most of the day, Gîlríon was seated before him, with Legolas’ arms firmly around him to prevent him from falling – not because he was afraid that Lainiell would try to unseat them, but because the now almost one year old child possessed a seemingly untiring curiosity for all the animals and plants they encountered on their journey. Legolas was pleased by Gîlríon’s love of Ilúvatar’s creation as it seemed to him a sign of his Sindarin blood, but all the same it proved to be hard work to satisfy their son’s curiosity during the day.

Fortunately all those new impressions made Gîlríon tired. When the day was over, he often fell directly into reverie as soon as camp was made and Legolas had given him his usual fare of mashed fruits with lembas. Then came a time Legolas had begun to look forward to – those warriors that were not on duty to guard the travelling group would gather around the fire to share a meal and to entertain each other with songs and tales.

The company of the other elves and the stories they told fascinated Legolas, and they also kept him from brooding over what his brother’s reaction would be like. He had never been close to Galuron, who had always seemed cold and aloof and had not shown any desire to spend time with his little brother. What would he think now, to see his exiled brother so dependent on Glorfindel and with a small child at his side? And surely being forced to leave his realm and his people to serve as a hostage in Lórien would not have thawed Galuron's feelings towards him...

But this brooding would change nothing, and so Legolas was glad of the distraction the evenings offered him. The first few times, he had felt very awkward, sitting among the warriors around the fire as if he were one of them. He was certain that their opinion of him could not differ very much from what Elladan thought of him, although by now, due to Elrond’s displeasure with any openly voiced insults, most of Imladris’ inhabitants simply ignored him.

Legolas would have preferred to sit at a distance from them, even though he was not very tired yet, but Glorfindel wanted his company and so it came to be that Legolas had spent every evening so far with the warriors around the fire. They did not seem to mind his company – although Legolas ascribed this to Glorfindel’s presence – and their tales captivated him. They painted a picture of a life he had always wished to lead himself, but it had been a long time since he had entertained any fantasies of some day bringing glory to his father or his kingdom.

But there was more to these warriors than just songs – due to the constant threat of death, they used their moments of rest to openly express desire and love without shame. Legolas had soon found out that there were a few couples among the guards, and that nobody seemed to mind if those lovers found pleasure in each other’s arms at night. Apparently it was a commonly accepted habit for a couple to move their bedrolls a little away from the fire – although still close by to the other members of the company, in case of a surprise attack – in order to enjoy each other.

During the first night of their journey, Legolas had been afraid that Glorfindel would want to take him like that. Uneasy and tense with nervousness he had waited for Glorfindel to join him for the night, but when the seneschal had finally lain down next to him, he had only wrapped one arm around him to pull him close, and they had fallen asleep like that. Legolas had been relieved – and yet, over the next few days when he witnessed the pleasures other elves enjoyed, he began to wonder about the reasons for Glorfindel’s uncharacteristic abstinence. Perhaps Glorfindel was too tired after an entire day of bearing the responsibility for the safety of their group? Or perhaps he did not want to lose the respect of his warriors? Yet this reason seemed strange to Legolas – certainly the other elves would not judge Glorfindel for indulging in bodily pleasures when it was an accepted habit for other members of their group...

This evening, the last one before they would be so far up in the mountains that they would encounter snow, saw the heightened passion of one particular pair. Searching for a place that would give them at least a small amount of privacy, they had lain down behind a small bush which shielded them from the view of the elves gathered around the fire – but they had yet to realize that the bedroll of their seneschal had been laid out only a small distance away.

Glorfindel had sent Legolas to look after Gîlríon, who was still sleeping peacefully, and had also whispered into his ear the order to go and prepare himself with some oil. This made Legolas both anxious and excited – anxious, because this was the first time that Glorfindel had expressed the desire to take him since they had started on this journey, and Legolas felt ashamed at the thought of all the other elves being able to listen to their sounds and guess just exactly what they were doing under their blanket. Yet he also was excited because Glorfindel had given him a deep, hungry kiss that had left him hard and aching for the lord’s skillful touch before sending him off.

And now, just when Legolas had pulled his leggings off and slipped beneath the blankets to ready himself with his fingers for Glorfindel’s attentions, the two elves had settled behind that bush just a horse’s length away without noticing him.

At first they were trying to be silent and only soft sighs and gasps reached Legolas’ ears, but soon Legolas found to his utter mortification that they liked to talk during their loveplay. And their talk did not only consist of breathless pleas, no – Legolas could hear his own name coming from the lips of one elf.

“Did you see our captain today? He looked ready to jump his little prince right there at the fire!”

Legolas swallowed and looked around to make sure that nobody was close enough to hear what they were saying. Glorfindel was still talking to those who would keep watch during the night – Ellonúr had as usual offered to take the first watch, keeping apart not only from Glorfindel but also from the other warriors – and Legolas was once again reminded what the lord had demanded of him. His face reddened when he pushed one oiled finger into himself after he had made sure that the blanket hid his actions from view.

Then another groan disturbed the silence. “Oh, I would have liked to have seen that – certainly Glorfindel is as magnificient in loveplay as he is at weaponplay!”

“Oh, believe me, Fairion, he is!” the first elf said and chuckled, then moaned. “And his weapon is magnificient, too – no need to be jealous of the captain’s little love, I’m sure you’ll hear him scream tonight. But first I will make _you_ scream...”

Legolas took a deep breath, wriggling uncomfortably. He was still hard... he only hoped that those two would be finished and gone before Glorfindel returned.

For a moment there was some rustling of leaves and dry branches, then the moans started again. “Aiya, please, more... touch me!” Fairion pleaded, then whimpered. “Ai, to think of our captain taking possession of that sweet little thing... what I would not give to see that!”

The other elf growled softly. “Like that idea, do you? That pretty, pale youth helpless beneath our captain, all vulnerable and afraid and yet forced to submissively accept him because our lord Glorfindel is so much stronger.... mmmh, he must be delicious! Think about it, how the young one must feel when he is taken, filled by our lord beyond what he thinks he can endure...”

Fairion whimpered and then there was more rustling before soft moans could be heard. “Please Laindir... move!” he begged, “I need you!”

Laindir groaned, and then there was a moment of silence where only the sounds of lovemaking could be heard.

“Once we’re in Lórien, I’ll take you that way!” Laindir gasped. “Like Glorfindel does with his prince!” A moan answered him, breathless and needy, and he growled. “You’ll be my little captive... and I’ll do with you whatever I want!”

Fairion cried out; apparently the picture his lover’s words painted had been enough to make him reach his climax. Legolas as well was seeing himself beneath Glorfindel, just like the elf had described – and although he was flushed with shame he still had one finger deep inside himself, while his other hand rested between his legs, squeezing around his member which was achingly hard and already moist with the first drops of his essence.

The two elves were both still trying to calm their fast and noisy breathing while Legolas closed his eyes for a moment, trying to keep from spilling himself, yet unable to stop touching his heated flesh as he imagined Glorfindel taking him so. Then he opened his eyes again, only to find himself face to face with the golden-haired lord.

  
24

Legolas gasped and froze. Glorfindel smiled at him, a slow, languid smile that gave Legolas a sinking feeling despite the amusement it signified.

“What have we here?” Glorfindel murmured. “Did I not tell you to prepare yourself?” He pushed one hand beneath the blanket and let it rest over Legolas’ fingers, which were still wrapped around his hard flesh. “I cannot remember telling you to pleasure yourself!”

“I did prepare myself, my lord...” Legolas protested softly, only to gasp and fall silent when Glorfindel’s fingers moved further back between his legs until they encountered his other hand.

“I see,” Glorfindel breathed and let his fingertips rub gently against the opening that was stretched around the prince’s own digit. Legolas shuddered and moaned softly, unconsciously arching his back to press himself against Glorfindel, offering himself to him. “Then let me inspect how well you have prepared yourself for me!” Slowly he pressed the tip of one finger inside against the resistance of the tight muscle. Legolas gasped, first tensing in surprise at the intrusion and then trying to relax as Glorfindel’s finger slid deepide ide him, rubbing against his own in the process. It was so strangely erotic that Legolas’ eyes fell closed and his entire body shuddered with want.

“Aiya!” he whimpered. “Please, my lord...”

“Please what, _roch neth_?” Glorfindel said with a dark smile. “You need to tell me what it is you want.” He crooked his finger, rubbing against the nub inside the youth and chuckled at the immediate response. Legolas tensed, holding his breath for a moment as the intense pleasure threatened to overwhelm him, and then gasped for air in what resembled desperate little sobs.

“Take me, my lord! Please!” Legolas pleaded, and nee need in his voice was so clearly audible that Glorfindel showed mercy. He pulled his finger out, allowing Legolas to do so as well, and quickly yanked the tunic from Legolas' body. He pushed the bared youth down onto the blanket, staring hungrily at Legolas while he unlaced and pulled off his own clothes. Already Glorfindel was erect, and unlike Legolas, he was not in the least bit concerned about the nearness of the guards. He turned Legolas to his side, and then laid down behind him, with Legolas' back to his chest and his taut buttocks flush against his hard length.

“Like this?” he murmured and used his thumbs to open Legolas for him. He pushed forward a little to let Legolas feel the blunt head of his shaft, the rosy opening quivering at the contact. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes! Oh yes, please...” Legolas begged helplessly, clawing at the ground in order to keep from touching himself again. “Fill me my lord... I am yours!”

“Oh yes, you are!” With a soft growl Glorfindel pushed forward, forcing the tight ring of muscle to open around the thick head of his erection, and did not stop until he could feel the smooth flesh of Legolas’ buttocks against his testicles. Legolas moaned long and deeply, and rustling sounds as well as the murmuring of soft voices reminded them that they still had two eavesdroppers, and probably the attention of the entire camp as well.

Glorfindel could feel Legolas tense and whimper with dismay when he realized how exposed they were to the nearby elves. “Hush,” Glorfindel trio cao calm him and pressed a kiss to his temple, “do not worry about them – your only concern right now should be to please me.” Legolas closed his eyes, still trembling while he tried to ignore the voices of the two guards. Glorfindel pulled the blanket up to cover their bodies, then wrapped a strong arm around Legolas to hold him close, kissing his neck and shoulder until the prince began to relax into his arms once more.

“Concentrate on me!” Glorfindel breathed into his ear. “Concentrate on how I feel – my body, my touch, my hardness inside you. It is the only thing that matters to you."

“Yes, lord,” Legolas whispered weakly and reached for Glorfindel’s hand which was resting on his belly. Timidly he entwined his fingers with those of the warrior, then sighed and rested his head back against Glorfindel’s shoulder. Glorfindel pulled back a little, then pushed back in, nudging the spot inside Legolas that made him gasp and arch his back. “Ai... more, please!” he moaned, pressing himself back against Glorfindel to take him as deep as possible inside himself. He turned his head to the side, silently pleading for a kiss, and the Noldo indulged him and covered the offered lips with his own.

Legolas sighed, his lips parting in surrender when Glorfindel’s tongue took possession of his mouth. He was flooded with sensation, completely enveloped by Glorfindel. His mouth was filled with Glorfindel’s taste, he was held in his arms, and surrounded by his scent – and deep within him, he could feel Glorfindel’s passion, his desire for him, hot and thick and claiming him so completely that Legolas could not help but revel in his complete surrender to the golden warrior. He moaned into Glorfindel’s mouth, giving himself over to the strong Noldo, and was rewarded for his submission with another gentle thrust which sent sweetest pleasure straight into the center of his being. Again and again Glorfindel pushed into him, and while Legolas vaguely realized that he should be silent, he could not hold back the soft sighs and moans which Glorfindel’s skillful lovemaking forced from him.

The warrior’s hand, entwined with his own, was still resting on his belly, and now Glorfindel withdrew his fingers from Legolas’ grip to wrap them around the youth’s aching shaft. Legolas shuddered, his muscles tensing around Glorfindel, and after a few more of the agonizingly slow thrusts Legolas came hard, still gasping for breath when he felt Glorfindel’s warm essence fill him scant heartbeats later.

Glorfindel panted as well, and for a short time both were unable to do anything but rest, their bodies still joined. Finally Glorfindel withdrew, pressing a gentle kiss to Legolas’ neck when the prince sighed, then took a cloth to wipe the sticky result of their lovemaking from their bodies.

“You could not wait for me?” he then asked, playfully biting into the tempting shoulder before him. “Although you knew that I intended to have you, you could not wait? Tell me, do you still remember my rules?”

“I am sorry, my lord...I know that you told me to not touch myself!” Legolas said softly and lowered his head.

“And yet you broke my rule. What do you think I should do with you, _roch neth nín_?”

Legolas bit his lower lip. He knew what Glorfindel wanted to hear. “You should punish me, my lord...” he whispered, tensing as he thought about what it would feel like to be chastised before the eyes of the warriors – and worse, before their child. Would Glorfindel truly do this to him?

“Oh yes, you certainly deserve a punishment!” Glorfindel turned Legolas around so that they now rested face to face, then smiled in dark satisfaction at the anxiety he saw. “There are two ways we can do this, Legolas – I will let you choose. I can punish you right here, pull you over my knees and give you the spanking you know you deserve. Or we can wait until Lórien, where neither Gîl nor my guards will be able to watch, but where I will then use more than just my bare hand. It is up to you, Legolas!”

“Please wait until Lórien, my lord!” Les has hastily answered, relieved and thankful that he would not have to endure the humiliation of being disciplined like a child in front of the warriors. Nothing could be worse than that.

“I will not go easy on you, Legolas,” Glorfindel warned. “It is onl only that you broke one of my rules; even worse – instead of finding you ready for me, I see you pleasuring yourself while listening to the lovemaking of two of my guards! Tell me, what am I supposed to think about that?”

“Ai, I am sorry!” Legolas moaned, burning with shame. “Please, my lord, believe me, it was not my intention to listen to them! But they were so loud, and... and they were talking about you and me...”

“Is that true, Fairion? Laindir?” Glorfindel asked in a slightly louder voice. Soft laughter answered him, then the two elves appeared from behind the bush, dressed again but still flushed with the aftermath of pleasure.

“Aye, Lord,” Fairion answered. “I have to admit that I told Laindir how beautiful I thought you were together, especially your little prince... and oh I was right, he makes the sweetest sounds!”

A choked noise of shame and protest came from Legolas at that statement.

“I am sure he was thinking of nobody but yourself when he touched himself, my lord,” Laindir said, smiling with unveiled amusement as he looked down at his captain and the slender body cuddled against him. Glorfindel wrapped one arm around Legolas and pulled him closer, but his voice was notably colder when he again addressed the two elves.

“Who or what he thinks about is none of your concern – I suggest you go and get some rest now, tomorrow will be a strenuous day for all of us.”

“Of course, Lord Glorfindel,” the two guards immediately answered and bowed their heads before they took their blankets and left, this time without any outward signs of amusement.

Glorfindel sighed, shaking his head slowly. “They are all laughing at me,” he said, but it was obvious that he was not truly angry about it. "To think hohavehave complained every time we had to guard some lord with his lady and children on the journey to and from Lórien, instead of fighting orcs... ai, it is no wonder that they laugh now that I myself am taking my small son on a visit to the Golden Wood.”

“Is that why you have not... take une until now?” Legolas asked slowly, not certain if the question would anGlorGlorfindel. But the Noldo only smiled and shook his head.

“Had I known that you would take tvesdvesdropping on my guards if I did not give you release, I would have taken you much sooner, my wanton little prince!” Glorfindel said and laughed out loud when Legolas protested. “I have made it a habit to not indulge myself at the beginning of a journey, not until I see how the dynamics of the group work. You must have been very tired these last several nights if you did not realize that I often got up from our bed to see how the current watch was doing!”

“You are right, my lord, I had not realized that,” Legolas said, suddenly feeling very young and foolish to sleep through those disturbances.

“Do not worry, Legolas, I know that you are not used to travel. That is why there are so many guards with us, so that you and Gîlríon can sleep safely at night.”

“And what about tonight?” Legolas asked, lowering his eyes to escape Glorfindel’s amused gaze.

“Oh, I do not think I will have to get up tonight – by now I have worked out a plan that matches the inexperienced youngsters with my older warriors, and I have assured myself that they work well together. No, from now on the nights are my own, to use as I like... to use _you_ as I like!” Glorfindel crowned the last sentence with a light bite to Legolas’ nipple, soothing the stiff nub with his tongue when Legolas gasped. “I should like to get you with child again, you tasted so sweet...” he mused before he bent down to suck on the small nipple.

Legolas was clearly not happy about that thought, but soon he was writhing again, softly moaning as his tender flesh was manipulated. Only a short while ago Gîlríon had been weaned, and while Legolas’ chest was finally once more as flat as that of every other male, his nipples were still very sensitive. Legolas was not sure if this was still an effect of giving birth and nursing a babe, or if this sensitivity was normal – after all, he had never had his nipples sucked before he got pregnant.

That thought alone made Legolas blush, and Glorfindel released him, chuckling at this reaction. “I thought you missed nursing Gîlríon...” he teased.

“But it is different... with you,” Legolas protested, then fell silent when Glorfindel’s thumb circled around his stiff, reddened nipple.

“There will be other children for you to suckle one day,” Glorfindel promised and smirked at Legolas’ unhappy sigh. “But for now, we should sleep. From tomorrow on the journey will be harder, and it will be several days until we will have a camp as comfortable as this again...”

“Yes, my lord,” Legolas answered obediently, then looked wistfully at their sleeping child. Glorfindel smiledLegoLegolas’ obvious need to feel Gîlríon close, and so he got up to his knees and gently lifted his son from his soft bedding. As soon as the child was in Legolas’ arms, hstlestled against his ada’s chest, still deeply asleep, and Glorfindel curled up against Legolas’ back with a protective arm over the two of them, keeping them safe and close during the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
roch neth = colt  
roch neth nín = my colt  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
25

Although they made many pauses to rest and made camp early, the journey to Lórien was more exhausting than Legolas would have thought it to be. He was not used to spending so many days on top of a horse – and then there was also Gîlríon to look after. The child had enough curiosity to keep Legolas busy all day, repeatedly trying to get away from his ada’s arms to have a closer look at whatever object had intrigued him. Fortunately this energy quickly waned once the day came to its end, and Gîlríon was asleep as soon as Legolas tucked a blanket around him.

This left Legolas time to spend with Glorfindel, sitting around the fire with the other guards and listening to their conversation. At first he had been afraid that there would be ridicule and derogatory comments after Glorfindel had so obviously had his way with him, yet this did not come to pass. Legolas still wondered about the reason, but he soon came to believe that – apart from some quiet amusement at seeing their Lord as the head of a family – nobody here seemed to care about what they did at night.

In this way, the journey finally came to its end, after they had crossed the Misty Mountains on a steep, snow-covered pass and ridden through rolling foothills towards the wood. A group of Lórien guards clad in grey was already waiting for them and led them deep into the forest, alerted to their imminent arrival by a messenger Glorfindel had sent once they had crossed the mountains.

It was a day’s journey until they reached the gates of Caras Galadhon, which were already open in expectation of their arrival. Legolas had heard Glorfindel’s description of the city that was build into the tops of the trees, but mere words had not been enough to truly describe the breathtaking vision of the telain built high atop the golden-leaved mallorn trees.

He breathed deeply the scent that emanated from the trees and listened to their song. The voices of the mellyrn were deep, yet their song was sweet and for a moment Legolas closed his eyes to listen.

Glorfindel’s chuckle woke Legolas from his trance. “He definitely has Sindarin blood,” the Noldo said with a smile and then took hold of Gîlríon and lifted him up, so that he was now sitting in front of the warrior.

“Atto!” Gîlríon giggled, then pointed at the trees. “They are shining! And they are prettier than those we have at home! I like them! Can I go and play among them?”

“We will be staying here for a while, so I think that you will have more than enough time to play among them later, especially as we will be living in those trees.”

Gîlríon’s eyes widened at his father’s words, which brought a smile to Legolas’ lips. “I promise that I will go out with you to walk among them later,” he promised his son. “If you do not mind, my lord?”

Glorfindel shook his head. “I will come with you, if I have the time. I do not yet know what our hosts have planned for us...”

“The Lady has told me to take you to a talan that has been prepared for you, and to tell you to rest for a while,” one of the guards said. “But,” he added, “our Lady and Lord will be glad to have you and your family join them for dinner this evening.”

Glorfindel nodded. “Tell your Lady that I am grateful for her hospitality, and that we will gladly accept her invitation.”

While Glorfindel, Legolas and Gîlríon were shown to their talan, their horses were brought to a near-by stable, as were Ellonúr and the guards that had accompanied them. While the warriors would have to share several large telain that were usually used by the Lothlórien guards, the talan that had been prepared for Glorfindel was reserved for high-ranking guests, and as such offered every comfort the warrior might have missed on their journey. But they could not yet take advantage of the soft bed and the bowl of fresh fruits which a servant had brought, as Gîlríon was far too excited to allow his parents to rest.

An hour later, after having dragged his parents through the wood, Gîlríon was finally tired enough that he fell asleep as soon as Legolas had laid him down onto the small bed that stood in the corner of the talan. Glorfindel took advantage of the opportunity to pull Legolas down onto the bed, greedily pushing his hands beneath his tunic.

“How I have missed having you all to myself...” Glorfindel breathed. “Tell me, how do I make use of this time we have now?”

Legolas writhed beneath him, shivering when Glorfindel’s fingers touched sensitive areas. “Ai, please don’t, my lord... we do not have the time! Shouldn’t we be preparing to dine with our hosts?”

“We have more than enough time for what I want to do to you, and you cannot tell me you do not want this” Glorfindel answered with a teasing smile and then pushed one hand straight between Legolas’ thighs. He laughed at the whimper that produced, and then gently squeezed. “Not hard yet, it is true... but I think I can change that.”

“But what if Gîl wakes?” Legolas said, unable to supress the shivers that wracked his body at Glorfindel’s skillful massage.

“Perhaps you are right... we should not do this right now.” Glorfindel withdrew his hands and smirked at the expression of disbelief and utter frustration on Legolas’ face. “I will wait until tonight then... I will be very hungry for you after that dinner, Legolas, so you would do well to make sure that you are properly prepared for me!“

Legolas spent much of the remaining time before dinner pondering whether this was a threat or a promise. But when it was finally time to leave their talan after they had washed and dressed and braided their hair, he was so nervous that he forgot all about it. Even though he was hungry and looking forward to a proper meal, he would rather have stayed and submitted to Glorfindel's lusts than to dine with the Lord and Lady... yet there was no way around it. At least Glorfindel had promised that it would be a very small dinner, with only a select few in attendance, so that Legolas hoped to forego the humiliation of meeting Haldir there. He had not yet forgotten the cutting remarks that had given his secret away almost two years ago...

The table that awaited them at the royal talan was small, and to Legolas' relief there was no sight of the marchwarden he had met in Imladris. Besides the Lord and Lady of the Wood and a darkhaired woman whom Legolas took to be Arwen, there were two other male elves that seemed to be advisors, as they wore not the garb of warriors but elaborate robes. Legolas had half feared that Galuron would also be there, yet his brother was absent. Legolas was relieved that he would not have to face him just yet, but nevertheless it seemed to be a bad sign – Galuron quite probably thought him to be a traitor, and perhaps would not even want to talk with him during his stay here in Lothlórien.

“My Lady Galadriel, Lord Celeborn,” Glorfindel greeted their hosts and bowed. Legolas inclined his head, suddenly glad for the reassuring presence of Gîlríon whom he carried in his arms. Then Glorfindel bowed again and greeted Arwen with a smile. “Arwen, it has been far too long since you have graced Imladris with your fair presence! Still, I think you have grown even more beautiful here in Lórien!”

“I am glad to see you as well, Glorfindel... I have missed you, and all the others at home,” Arwen said and smiled. “And I see that you have brought somebody else along?”

Gîlríon stared at her with wide eyes, then began to wriggle in Legolas’ arms. “Let me down, ada!” he declared. “I can walk on my own!”

Legolas sighed softly but complied. He could only hope that any reservations which these elves might feel towards Thranduil, would not extend to Gîlríon. While Legolas was used to dealing with scorn and humiliation, his son should not have to suffer because of his ancestry.

Still, he did not truly fear for his son’s well-being. Gîl was Glorfindel’s son and heir, and surely nobody would dare to insult him. For – if somebody did – they would certainly get to feel Glorfindel’s anger.

No, Legolas knew that his fears for his son were foolish, yet he could not help but tense in fearful anticipation when Gîlríon looked curiously at Galadriel, taking a step towards her as she reached out her arms to him. “Mae govannen,” he said as he had been taught and smiled at the Lady.

“Mae govannen, child of light and twilight,” Galadriel answered and rested her hand on his head, gently stroking the golden curls. “I have looked forward to meeting you – you, and your parents.” She looked up, and when her eyes met those of Legolas, he felt a strange sense of calmness come over him. He knew at once that his fears were unfounded – Galadriel would not let his son be harmed by the Silvan antipathy to the rule of Thranduil.

But then a different pair of eyes came to rest on Legolas, and he shivered. Celeborn, Lord of Lórien... and the only elf in this room whom he had met before. Legolas forced himself the meet the Lord’s eyes. He remembered well the day when Celeborn had offended him by comparing him to a girl, and he remembered even more vividly how Glorfindel had used his belt to punish him right there on the balcony.

Did Celeborn think of that incident right now? Did he remember Legolas’ cries of pain that had to have been audible in the hall that evening?

Celeborn gave him an enigmatic smile, and Legolas shuddered. He might not look like a girl now – wearing his royal braids and a formal, blue robe he looked more like a prince than he had ever before. Yet Celeborn obviously remembered that day... and apparently he was still amused by the fate of his enemy’s son.

  
26

“Legolas Thranduilion,” Celeborn said slowly, still smiling, and Legolas winced when he heard his father’s name. He did not think that it was proper to be addressed in such a way, not when Thranduil no longer acknowledged him as his son – but the princely garb Glorfindel had gifted him with told another tale.

“Lord Celeborn,” he said, and his voice was weaker than he would have wished. Yet he managed to endure the Lord’s gaze without showing outward signs of his anxiety.

“It has been a long time since we have last seen each other – nigh on two years, I think? I can see that many things have changed for you in the meantime...” There was laughter in Celeborn’s eyes as he took in the sight of Legolas with his royal braids and festive robes, and the body that had begun to firm from sword training. Legolas knew at once that Celeborn was comparing him to the frightened child he had once been, and that Celeborn intended for him to know what he was doing.

He defiantly raised his chin, enduring Celeborn’s muster proudly. He might not truly be a prince anymore, but he would not be cowed either. He would not feel shame for who he was, not while Gîlríon was with him – he would not give his son the impression that he was ashamed of being his father, no matter what happened.

“And you, little spark, were not even born then!” Celeborn tuned to look at Gîlríon, who now left Galadriel’s side to curiously stare at the silver-haired lord.

“Mae govannen,” Gîlríon said politely. Celeborn graciously knelt to be able to look into the child’s eyes, but when the moonlight was caught in his silver hair and made it shimmer, Gîlríon grabbed a handful with a delighted cry.

Legolas flinched as Gîlríon tugged on it, but apart from a slight wince, Celeborn did not react.

“Gîl...” Glorfindel chided and stepped up to help Celeborn free himself.

“No, let him – I do not mind, Glorfindel.” Celeborn smiled at the young child. “You have not seen hair like this in Imladris, I think?”

“No.” Gîlríon shook his head. “Atto’s hair is like the sun. But yours is like starlight! It is pretty!”

Celeborn began to laugh and bent forward to gently press a kiss to the child’s forehead. “Thank you, Gîlríon.”

“But my ada’s hair is pretty too!” Gîlríon then declared, perhaps worried that his ada would feel left out. He let go of Celeborn’s hair to run back to Legolas’ side, wrapping his arms around one of his legs. Happily he pressed his cheek against the robe-covered thigh, smiling up at his father. And Legolas could not help but to gather him up in his arms, holding him tightly for a moment to ensure himself that nothing had happened to him. He had told himself that Celeborn could not possibly hurt his son in any way, yet his own fear of the lord had made his heart stop for a moment when he saw Gîlríon pull on his hair with that innocent curiosity.

“Yes, it is,” Glorfindel said and stepped towards Legolas, pressing a kiss to his hair as he wrapped his arm around him. It felt almost like Glorfindel was trying to make a point, but what that point might be Legolas did not know. Perhaps he wanted to underline the fact that he would not tolerate any humiliation of Legolas, as that would also hurt their child – Legolas was not sure, but he decided not to wonder about it. He would be happy if the Lórien elves would simply ignore him during the dinner, or even during all of their stay here. After all, there was more to Lothlórien than formal dinners...

The wood was beautiful, deeper and more mysterious than what could be found close to Imladris, and the thought of wandering among the trees for hours filled Legolas with a breathless anticipation. The peaceful haven of Imladris, the valley of waterfalls, was a beautiful home filled with sunlight and the scent of flowers, yet Legolas had often found himself yearning for the feel of thick, moist moss beneath his feet and the play of the sunlight that fell in through the crowns of the trees to paint green-golden lines on his skin.

This journey to Lórien had made him realize how much he missed the voices of an old, thick wood, and he would be happy to while away the days playing with Gîlríon beneath the golden _mellyrn_, instead of being forced to spend his time with the likes of Celeborn or Haldir. Yet somehow he knew that Glorfindel would not allow him such a reclusive behavior. The garb he wore made it obvious that Glorfindel expected him to accompany his lord on formal occasions like this dinner, and behave like the prince he had never had a chance to be.

"Then let us sit down and eat,“ Galadriel declared. “Your journey was long and hard and we hope that you will enjoy this dinner.”

The food that was served to them was more than just enjoyable, especially after the long days with nothing but lembas and dried meats and fruits. They sat and feasted for a long time, partaking of all the offered food and wine, although after his last experience, Glorfindel ensured that Legolas’ wine was diluted with water.

To Legolas’ surprise, everbody behaved very courteously – there were no meaningful glances, no whispered words of derision or attempts to engage him in conversation only to humiliate him later. The only problem Legolas faced during dinner was that Gîlríon had developed a liking for the sweet, fragrant honey that bees had gathered from _mallorn_ blossoms in spring, and now was leaving sticky fingerprints on everything he touched, including his ada’s robe and hair.

“Our little honeybee is in need of a bath, I fear,” Glorfindel chuckled once they had finished eating and Gîlríon tried to use the opportunity to crawl onto his lap, smearing honey into his hair in the process.

"Shall I bathe him and put him to bed afterwards? It is already late for him...” Legolas winced when Gîlríon once again gleefully reached for a golden strand of hair with his sticky fingers, and quicky pulled his hands away. He looked questioningly at Glorfindel, hoping that his lord would allow him to leave. Dinner had not been as bad as he had feared; the food had been tasty, and he had enjoyed listening to the conversations around him. Still, he was secretly glad about Gîlríon’s presence, as it now gave him an excuse to leave the company before his own inadequacy became too obvious.

Glorfindel hesitated for a moment, but then he nodded and pressed a kiss to his son’s sticky lips. “_Losto vae, gîl nín_!”

“_Bain dhaw, atto! Bain dhaw, brennyn a brinnil_,” Gîlríon said politely, then yawned and wrapped his arms around Legolas’ neck when the prince took his son from Glorfindel’s arms.

“And Legolas... don’t forget what I promised you in the mountains!” Glorfindel said, smiling as Legolas flushed before he nodded and all but fled from the royal talan.

He knew that it was the punishment that Glorfindel had spoken of, and could not get the thought of what would happen once Glorfindel returned out of his mind, not even while he bathed Gîlríon and tucked him in afterwards. Anticipating what would come to pass later on, he had moved the small bed from the corner of their bedroom into the sitting room.

Finally, once Gîlríon was asleep and he had bathed himself and afterwards annointed his body with some of the rare _mallorn_ blossom oil that had been placed in their bathroom, he could do nothing more but wait. He had dressed in a short, thin nightshirt which he had found among his packed clothes. So far he had never had any use for sleeping clothes, as Glorfindel’s foremost rule of being naked in his bed was still firmly in place – yet he wondered why Glorfindel had had this shirt made for him if he did not intend for him to wear it. The shirt was so short that it barely covered his buttocks, yet he felt better wearing it as he was uncomfortable being naked in such an unknown environment.

He sighed softly as he laid down on their bed and covered himself with their blanket. He was tired after the journey, yet far too nervous to fall asleep now with the threat of the punishment still hanging over him. He wondered what Glorfindel would do – he had promised to use more than just his bare hand. Legolas swallowed, then turned his head to press his flushed face into the cool, silken sheet, feeling embarrassed by his treacherous body. He was afraid of what Glorfindel might do – yet he was hard now, aching for his lord’s touch.

And he did not even know if release would be granted to him tonight! How could he get aroused knowing what was in store for him? He sighed again, his breath trembling as he tried to calm himself. All he could do was to wait... but waiting was hard, especially as now unbidden images of his lord’s naked magnificence appeared in front of his eyes, keeping him aroused as he tossed and turned beneath the blanket.

\---------------  
Losto vae, gîl nín – Sleep well, little star  
Bain dhaw – Good night  
atto – father [Quenya]  
Bain dhaw, brennyn a brinnil – Good night, lords and ladies  
\---------------

  
27

The next time Legolas woke, he saw Glorfindel sitting at the edge of their bed, watching him with a bemused smile.

“My Lord,” Legolas said drowsily, reaching out with one hand to pull Glorfindel down to him, but then abandoning that idea as it took too much effort. Instead he wrapped that arm around Glorfindel’s waist and curled himself around him, so he could rest his head in his lord’s lap. The warrior watched him with affection in his eyes, brushing the hair away from Legolas’ face and then began to gently stroke his back with his fingertips, coaxing a contented sigh from the young prince.

_Roch neth_... do not fall asleep,” Glorfindel said softly, pulling the sleepy young Sinda up so that he was straddling his lap. He kissed his temple when Legolas rested his head against his shoulder, allowing him to doze in his arms for another moment.

Finally Legolas stretched and looked up at Glorfindel, becoming aware once again of their surroundings – and of what Glorfindel had promised him earlier. “I am sorry, my lord – I did not intend to fall asleep.”

“No, you are still exhausted from the journey, Legolas, you do not need to be sorry for being tired.” Glorfindel smiled, then dragged one finger up Legolas’ thigh, moving the nightshirt upwards as well.

Legolas flushed at Glorfindel’s teasing touch. “Forgive me, lord... I know well that I am not supposed to wear this in bed, but I was afraid somebody might come in.”

“Indeed I do not permit this usually, but I will allow it during our stay in Lórien. You would do well not to grow used to it, though,” Glorfindel said sternly, but was placated by Legolas’ obedient nod. “Well then... I think it is time to address your behavior in the mountains, Legolas. You do remember what I promised you, do you not?”

“Yes, my Lord...” Legolas voice was trembling slighty, and his cheeks reddened when he raised his eyes. “You promised to use more than your hand to discipline me.”

“Yes, indeed I did. I think it is time to acquaint you with some of the.... finer subleties of pain, and the pleasure that may be derived from it. Do you see this?” Glorfindel got up to take something from the table, then returned to the bed and placed it into Legolas’ hands. “A mallorn switch – freshly cut just moments ago. I freed it from its bark while you slept, _roch neth_. Is it not beautiful? There is no wood I cherish more. Touch it, Legolas, feel how smooth it is, how strong and yet so flexible. How the pale wood shimmers golden when the light hits it... We will take it back to Imladris with us, and it will be your responsibility to care for it, to oil it, and – most importantly – you will get it and present it to me whenever you think that you have erred and need to be disciplined. Do you understand me, Legolas?”

“Yes, my Lord,” Legolas said softly, touching the smooth wood with both trepidation and awe. Glorfindel was right – the wood was beautiful, pale with several golden veins. They shimmered in the candlelight which Glorfindel seemed to have lit while he had been asleep... “How do you want me, my Lord?” he asked bravely, already fearing the sting of the switch.

“I want to see you kneel before me, _cunn lend nín_,” Glorfindel purred, his smile widening when Legolas gracefully slid from the bed to the floor to kneel there in front of his lord. “Yes... very good, Legolas. And now tell me for which transgression you have earned yourself a punishment, and ask me to give it.”

“I... I listened to the guards...” Legolas began, a little hesitant as he remembered his shameful behavior. “I listened to them making love, and I – I touched myself while I was supposed to wait for you, lord.” He bowed his head, feeling true shame now that he recounted his deeds. “Forgive me, my lord; my behavior was improper, I shamed you in front of your guards. Please punish me, so that I will learn to control myself, and to bring honor to you.”

Glorfindel had watched Legolas with a serious expression, but now he nodded and raised a hand to caress his cheek. “Yes, Legolas, you still have much to learn, but I am pleased that you realized your mistake. I will punish you, and then we will not talk about it again. Come, over my lap, _roch neth_...”

Once Legolas had positioned himself, Glorfindel pulled up the hem of the nightshirt to pat the firm buttocks, then began to spank the prince, laughing softly at the surprised yelp that caused. “Just to warm you up a little,” he explained with obvious amusement. “And because I so love the way you writhe and tremble on my lap...”

But despite his words, he kept the slaps light, not meaning to cause pain beyond a slight sting. Legolas soon relaxed – and while his skin was continuing to redden, his length was slowly hardening against Glorfindel’s thigh. The Noldorin warrior could hear his breathing quickening, and also knew that the little sounds that escaped Legolas were not caused by pain, but rather suppressed moans.

Glorfindel smiled and pulled Legolas up. “This is supposed to be a punishment,” he teasingly remarked. “But can it be that you actually enjoy this?”

Legolas stared at him, wide-eyed and obviously confused and miserable about his body’s reaction. “No, my lord... I do not like to be hurt. But... but I like being close to you. I like being touched by you...”

“Ah, but was this truly painful, _roch neth_? I think not... you already know what it is like to be punished for a serious infraction of my rules. Now get up, it is time to try out how the mallorn will feel on your skin. Just bend over that table for me.”

Still looking troubled and visibly confused, Legolas obeyed. He did not even fear the mallorn switch anymore as he kept thinking about Glorfindel’s words and the strange reactions of his body. He did not like to be punished – did he?

Then the switch came down and he cried out in surprise, immediately biting his lip afterward to stifle more of the cowardly sounds. It hurt, it truly hurt... the pain seemed to vibrate through his entire body, and his bottom felt as if it was burning with heat. Yet he was aware that Glorfindel was holding back. The pain was nowhere near as bad as what he had endured with other, far worse, punishments – but it hurt nonetheless.

“That is enough,” Glorfindel said after only a few strokes, eyeing with satisfaction the red lines that he had laid over Legolas’ buttocks, not one line crossing the other. “It suits you, this chastised look... and see, I think you enjoyed it after all.” He reached between Legolas’ thighs to grasp the still-hard shaft, coaxing an uncomfortable moan from the prince.

Then Glorfindel let go of him, patting Legolas’ bottom again and smirking as the prince hissed. “Up with you... get my brush, and some of that wine over there.” He watched Legolas hurry away, smiling in satisfaction. He had chosen well... the nightshirt was so short that with every step, it was pulled up and gave glimpses of the pert red buttocks and the welts that decorated it.

Glorfindel sat down in a chair, relaxing into the velvet cushion, and took the goblet of wine Legolas had fetched him. He motioned for the prince to kneel, then took the brush from his fingers as well. “Do not fear, no more punishments for you today – if you behave,” he teased, then put the goblet down and began to brush Legolas’ hair that had been mussed both by sleep and the subsequent disciplining over his lap.

With a deep sigh Legolas rested his chin on Glorfindel’s thigh, closing his eyes as he calmed under the soothing ministrations. Despite the stinging welts, Legolas enjoyed the intimacy of the situation – it felt a little like he was floating, protected by a cloud from all other emotions but those of safety and comfort, and a deep yearning to be allowed to stay like this. No longer did he muse about why it had aroused him to be pulled over Glorfindel’s knee; there was no room for thoughts now, only the peace of acceptance, and of gratitude for his lord’s tenderness.

That peace was shattered before Glorfindel was finished with the prince’s hair, when after a soft knock, Celeborn entered their talan. Legolas gasped and flinched, then yelped as that made the brush that was still in his hair yank on some strands.

“_Suilad_,” Celeborn greeted them, receiving a smile and a greeting in return from Glorfindel.

“Celeborn, _mellon nín_ – please sit down. I am glad that you found the time. It has been far too long...”

The Lord of the Wood nodded, choosing the chair next to Glorfindel. “Yes, it has been a long time. There are few here who I can talk freely with, as I do with you. Your visits and our conversations are something that I look forward to all the more because of their infrequency.”

“Legolas, fetch the Lord some wine,” Glorfindel ordered, then laughed softly when Celeborn’s eyes widened and followed Legolas on his way through the room, resting very obviously on his red buttocks.

“Did you misbehave, _cunn dithen_?” Celeborn inquired, unable to help the amused smile that spread over his face. That smile got even wider when Legolas turned to them, and the Lord of the Golden Wood could see that he was still aroused.

Legolas blushed furiously, lowering his eyes as he presented the goblet to Celeborn with slightly shaking hands.

“I see you enjoy it, too, when Glorfindel is forced to discipline you?” Celeborn could not resist teasing.

Glorfindel laughed and tugged on his prince’s arm so that he was once again forced to rest on the floor, with his head resting on the Noldo’s thigh.

“Well, Legolas? What is your answer to Lord Celeborn’s question?”

\------------------------  
roch neth - colt  
cunn lend nín – my sweet prince  
suilad - greetings  
mellon nín – my friend  
cunn dithen – little prince  
\------------------------

  
28

"Yes, I… I misbehaved,“Legolas forced himself to admit, not daring to raise his eyes as he waited for another humiliating remark. “My lord punished me so I would not bring dishonor to him and to myself again.”

“The punishment can not have been very hard then,” Celeborn said with a pointed look to Legolas’ lap. “Or have you truly learned to find pleasure in your lord’s touch, no matter if caress or chastisement?”

“No!” Legolas protested, then flushed with shame at his impolite response. “No, my lord... I do not, I just, I... I like being close to my lord,” he admitted, feeling shame at his body’s reaction, and at the easiness with which he answered the Lord of the Golden Wood. Certainly these questions were designed to humiliate him – but what else could he do but show Celeborn the respect and deference he deserved as ruler of his realm, especially when Glorfindel was with him?

“Hmmm... that you realize this is a beginning, at least,” Celeborn said with a smile that was partly amused, but partly tinged with real affection. “And why should you not enjoy being close to him? The Lord of the Golden Flower is one of the mightiest warriors of our time, and the flame of his fëa burns brightly within him. All who see him are dazzled, maidens and younglings alike, and Lords and Kings would happily give their children to him to bind the most exalted of the Gondolindrim to their houses – yet he chose you.”

"Yes,“ Legolas acknowledged softly. He did not know what Celeborn wanted of him – but his words were true. Glorfindel had chosen him, and while then he had been a spoil of war – not much better than what humans would call slave – by now, he was more. He did not know exactly what he was, but he was not a slave. The Glorfindel he knew gave freely of his affection, was concerned with Legolas’ wellfare and education, continually teaching him – and Glorfindel did not allow even the smallest slight of him. No, Legolas was no slave – but what was he then? The "captain’s little love", one of the guards had called him, but Legolas shied away from that train of thought.

If he thought back to what his life had been like in Mirkwood, he knew that this was much more than what he could ever have hoped to have had there. Glorfindel could be warm and full of affection for him, and lately, even when he had thought it necessary to discipline him, Legolas had not feared him. It was as if the earlier conglomerate of emotions, the hatred for the Sindar of Mirkwood, the derision and the often cruel lust, had been washed away by time and left behind a Glorfindel that seemed playful even when disciplining him - never angry, but playing a game that Legolas did not yet understand.

Glorfindel gently stroked Legolas’ hair, then sighed and got up. “I think I just heard Gîl... I will go see if he has woken. Please pour the lord more wine; I know that he likes this vintage.”

Legolas nodded, not sure what else to do. Obediently he got up and poured some more of the ruby liquid into Celeborn’s goblet, then poured some more for Glorfindel as well. For a moment he wondered whether he was supposed to kneel again, but while he did not mind kneeling at Glorfindel’s side as this position often brought pleasurable caresses, somehow he did not want to kneel in front of Celeborn and so took Glorfindel’s chair instead.

"There is no shame in enjoying your submission, you do realize that?” Celeborn said, his voice soft as if he were simply voicing his thoughts aloud without being aware that Legolas was listening. “Many of our most revered warriors and kings chose to play games in the safety of their bed chambers, games of submission and dominance, and none of it had anything to do with their wise ruling or valiant fighting. And why should there be shame in a lord who continually has to bear the responsibility for the well-being of hundreds of elves seeking relief from the pressure of that burden? Why should there be shame in him abandoning all his fears and worries for an hour in which he is not allowed to make a single decision, so that his lover can dominate him and help him to find a few moments of peace in his submission?”

Celeborn was quiet for a moment, as if to give Legolas time to muse over his words, but perhaps he was only remembering the kings and lords of whom he spoke.

“And what of their lovers, the lords, the warriors who lost so much? Is it simple cruelty, their need to dominate, their excitement at hearing their loved ones gasp in pain? Or is theirs perhaps a need just as great as that of their lovers? Those who crossed the Helcaraxë, those who brought death to their kin at Alqualondë, those who fought and lost their families to the evil of Morgoth... If those developed a taste for control, is it that hard to understand? If they find relief from their memories and their guilt in their lover’s graceful submission, in an obediently arched back – in the knowledge that they can bring peace to their beloved’s mind, be it by pleasure or pain or even humiliation... Can you judge them?”

“These games, young prince, have been played long before you were born. And your lord is a rare master. There should be no shame in your eyes, Legolas. I am one of the few true friends your lord has, and what I see, I understand. I can see that he has chosen you – he, who could have anyone. Do not feel shame. You are a prince, the Valar have gifted you with a beautiful child and the famed Balrog slayer Glorfindel of Gondolin cares for you and will protect you. Is this not enough reason to feel pride in who you are, child?”

Legolas stared into the ruby liquid that was glistening in the silver goblet, gazing at the small waves that destroyed the mirrorlike surface at his smallest move. He did not know how to respond to Celeborn’s words. He had not imagined that he would be treated thus – he had readied himself for derision, for words befitting a slave. Yet he was treated as a prince – as an equal to the Lord Celeborn, despite the continued references to his age – although that was no wonder. He had not even reached his majority yet, whereas Celeborn had dwelt in the Halls of Menegroth and saw the sack of Doriath and the wrath of Fëanor’s sons. Compared to him, Legolas was indeed little more than a child, although he himself felt that he had already matured beyond his years.

“Thank you for your words, my lord,” he finally said, and although his voice was soft, it was nevertheless firm. “I will think about what you have told me today. I am... grateful that you spoke so freely with me.” He was not yet sure what to think of Celeborn’s words. Certainly he might be right, as he had already seen Ellonúr beg for Glorfindel’s mastery over him, for the bite of the cane even – yet somehow he still could not believe that there were those who asked for pain, who even enjoyed it.

Unhappily, he remembered how he had squirmed when Glorfindel had pulled him over his lap, and how his Lord’s touch had aroused him despite the humiliating position he was in – yet this was different somehow, it had to be, he told himself. He was not like Ellonúr, he would never beg to be hurt!

Celeborn nodded slowly. "Yes, think about them... that is all I ask. You might be confused about a lot of things, young one, but there is no need for you to feel shame. Do not allow people to ridicule you for what happens in the privacy of your bed chamber, but know that these things have existed for almost as long as the days of the Firstborn. You are a prince of your people, and you deserve respect for that.”

Then Celeborn smiled, somewhat mischievious, and leaned forward to whisper: “Unless your lord has invited one of his oldest friends who shares his _interests_, of course – then you are not so much prince, but the one who submits to his lover’s cane to please him.” He chuckled softly and leaned back, watching Glorfindel enter the room once again. “What happens here will not be told to anyone else, Legolas, I promise you that.”

Glorfindel raised a brow as he returned to his chair. “You seem to have had an interesting conversation!” Legolas immediately got up, but before he could kneel in front of the chair once more, Glorfindel pulled him onto his lap, pressing a quick kiss to his temple. “So, what have you been talking about, mellon nín?”

“I have been wondering – Mallorn cane, right?” Celeborn said. “The welts certainly look like it, and I know that you have always favored that wood.”

Glorfindel chuckled. “Yes, indeed. Mallorn is very... rewarding, in trained hands. Yet I know that you favor other materials. Have you ever tried warg hide, I wonder? “

Legolas’ mind began to stray from the topic the two lords were currently discussing. He leaned his head against Glorfindel’s shoulder and enjoyed the warmth of the arms that came to embrace him, while he once again began to rethink Celeborn’s remarks. His explanations had been interesting – no, more than that, a revelation even. Knowing that there had been lords, kings even, who would submit to a lover in the seclusion of their bed chamber... this was something he would have to contemplate carefully, and mayhap Glorfindel could be made to tell him an anecdote or two.

  
29

Legolas’ thoughts were still focused on his conversation with Celeborn, even after the lord had left and he was resting on their bed, pulled against Glorfindel’s chest by the warrior’s strong arms. His cheek rested where Glorfindel’s heartbeat could lull him into sleep, while fingers idly stroked his hair. Legolas breathed the scent of freshly-cut grass that always seemed to cling to his lord’s locks, and gradually he realized that he was content. The realization was strange, for after what their beginnings had been, should he not fear and hate the golden Lord? But there was no hate when he thought of Glorfindel, instead there was a strange affection, and rather than fear, what he felt could probably be best categorized as respect.

How long this feeling would stay Legolas did not know, yet for this moment of time, he felt at peace and content with his life. “Losto vae, hîr nín,” Legolas murmured and relaxed against Glorfindel, his eyes glazing over as he began to wander the dream-paths of reverie. He did not hear the whispered answer of _losto vae, pen vell_, and did not feel the gentle kiss that was pressed to his temple, but the paths his fëa wandered led through lush, verdant clearings and were filled by warm sunshine.

  
The next morning, a young Silvan servant brought them breakfast which they ate in their _talan_. This time Legolas was careful not to allow any of the honey into their hair, although Gîlríon pouted a little when he was not allowed to put his fingers directly into the jar of honey.

“What are your plans for today, my lord?” Legolas asked once they were finally finished, and Gîlríon’s fingers cleaned.

“There are no plans yet for the morning – we will have the midday meal with the Lord and the Lady, but until then, I thought we would simply walk a little. Certainly Gîl would like to explore the Golden Wood?”

Both smiled at their son's insistent nod and soon they were walking beneath the _mellyrn_, Gîlríon running before them and gathering those stones and leaves he deemed were the most beautiful.

They stayed away from the parts of the wood where families had built their _telain_, but the path they followed carried them to several places where the Silvan and Sindarin elves of the wood were gathered – the archery ranges, shallow ponds where youths were fishing, a hill of large rocks where a silver-haired elf played the lute for an audience of fellow musicians.

Finally they settled near a shallow brook, where drifts of small flowers bloomed in abundance. Gîlríon played among them, gathering as many different flowers as he could before a snail distracted him. When he dropped the blossoms into his _atto_’s lap so that he could follow the glistening trail the small animal had left, Glorfindel chuckled and began to weave them into a wreath.

“Do not go too far!” Legolas told their son but stayed where he was, sitting next to Glorfindel who was humming an old melody while his fingers worked quickly on the wreath.

“Never fear, we will guard the little warrior for you!” a voice called out in answer, and when Legolas looked up in surprise, he saw that two of Glorfindel’s guards had joined them. With some embarrassment he noted that they were the two elves whom he had overheard that night in the mountains – Fairion and Laindir.

This time, though, they did not speculate about what might happen between him and their captain at night. Instead, they squatted down next to where Gîlríon was watching the snail and soon engrossed him with a game.

When he suddenly felt something touch his hair, Legolas looked up in surprise. He had been so busy watching the guards that he had forgotten what Glorfindel was doing, and apparently the wreath made of the small flowers that Gîl had gathered was now resting on his head.

Glorfindel chuckled at his expression, and Legolas gave him a small, uncertain smile while he touched the wreath with one hand. He bit his lip, not quite certain how to react to this, but then, almost reluctantly, his smile got warmer and he leaned towards Glorfindel to quickly kiss him, not daring to meet his eyes afterwards.

"How sweet,“ a cold voice interrupted them. “What a loving little family you have made for yourself, Legolas – _adar_ should be glad that he got rid of you.”

Legolas winced, but then he forced himself to take a deep breath before he slowly looked up, taking in the familiar form of his brother Galuron who stood glowering at them from the path. His hair was paler even than Legolas’s tresses, and while his face was narrower, his build lighter than that of his sire, he bore himself with the same arrogant confidence.

“Galuron! I am glad to see that you are well.” Legolas smiled at his brother, although at that moment he felt more like running away, and then got up to walk towards where Gîlríon was playing with the guards. They had immediately moved their hands to their weapons and watched warily when Legolas took his son’s hand to gently lead him towards the other Sinda.

“This is my brother, _tôr adarech_ Galuron, Gîl. Say hello to him,” Legolas instructed gently.

“Mae govannen, _tôr adaren_!” Gîlríon said readily, staring at the blond elf with a mixture of fascination and unease. “Your brother, _ada_? Does _atto_ have a brother, too?”

“No... you only have two uncles, Gîl, my brothers Galuron and Celeirdúr,” Legolas assured his son, who seemed intimidated by the scowl on his new uncle’s face.

“So it is all true... Do you not care about the shame you have caused _adar_? To see a son of the Great Greenwood’s king sink so low – ai, what shame you bring to our house! Whence comes this weakness in you? I would rather have died than become a whore to a Noldo!”

Legolas stiffened, then leaned down to tell Gîlríon to return to the guards and play with them, as he had seen that Glorfindel had gotten up to join them. Gîlríon gave him an unhappy look, his eyes starting to fill with tears when he sensed that his _ada_ was upset, but still went obediently to the guards who had taken a few steps towards them at Galuron’s insults.

“In front of my _son_, Galuron?” Legolas whispered agitatedly as soon as his son had left them. “Hate me if you want, but to call me that in front of my _son_? Even if you no longer consider me kin, I did not believe you to be so needlessly cruel...”

“What do you call it then, traitor, to bend over for the enemy and to let him get you with child only to run away to his realm once your depravity becomes known? You have led to our downfall, Legolas – because of you I am forced to live among these strange trees as a hostage, far from my home and family and friends! And do you even know what some of these Galadhrim did to Celeirdúr? Their Marchwarden told me, he told me all the details – and he enjoyed it, Legolas! All of this is your fault, _little brother_!

So do not think that I will pity you for spreading your legs for that accursed Balrog-slayer when I can see for myself how you enjoy being pampered and coddled by him! Just do not come crawling back once he decides that he has gotten enough children – you are no longer welcome in the Greenwood, and if I have any say in it, you will never set another step into the wood again!”

“How dare you judge me!” Legolas whispered fiercely, straightening so that he could answer his brother’s glare. As a child he would never have dared standing up to Galuron, the older, smarter one, adored by all of his teachers – but he was a child no more. For good or for ill, he had changed, and although he was still not sure _what_ he was, he would no longer be frightened by such words of hate. What did he have to lose, after all? Already he was exiled from the home of his childhood... No, there was nothing Galuron could do now to hurt him worse than it had hurt to be banished by his own father.

“You who have never known me! You who have never cared about what I did! Did you ever think of your brother who spent his days out in the wood with nothing but horses for company, while you had the finest tutors and captains teaching you the art of politics and tactics of battle? Where were you then? Where were you when I spent my begetting days without my family’s smiles? Where were you when I was... _raped_, when I called out for my _ada_ to help me but was all alone...”

He broke off and turned away from the cold disbelief on the face of his brother. Tears began to run down his face as he remembered the terror of being pressed to the ground by the weight of a stranger who cared nothing for his pain and fear.

"You are right, I am not your kin... I have never been. I know not why, but I have always been unwanted, unloved. Call me a whore if you must, I do not care – I have my son’s love, Galuron, and that is more than I would ever have had in Mirkwood!”

Legolas flinched when a hand came to rest on his shoulder, then relaxed when he realized that it was Glorfindel who had silently waited behind him during their exchange.

“You will _never_ insult him again,” Glorfindel said slowly, his voice cold and threatening. “If I ever hear you calling him that again – or if you _ever_ hurt him again in front of our son, I will teach you a lesson with my sword, _prince_ – and hostage or not, I will not stop until I hear your _screams_ for mercy!”

“Fairion! Laindir!” he then called out. “Pleace bring my son back to our _talan_; we will join you there shortly. And you, Galuron, will have to excuse us... We have better things to do than to listen to your poisoned words.”

His arm wrapped tightly around Legolas’ waist, Glorfindel led the young Sinda away from the brook, neither of them looking back at Galuron. Legolas was still weeping quietly at the memories this dispute had brought back, and Glorfindel knew that he had to find a deserted spot for him to calm himself as he did not want Gîlríon to see his _ada_’s tears.

\------------------------  
Losto vae, hîr nín – Sleep well, my Lord  
Losto vae, pen vell – Sleep well, dear one  
tôr adarech – your father’s brother  
tôr adaren – my father’s brother  
atto – affectionate form of "father" [Quenya]  
ada – affectionate form of "father" [Sindarin]  
\-------------------------

  
30

“Why?” Legolas whispered brokenly, hiding his tear-stained face against Glorfindel’s shoulders once they stopped, safely away from any who might overhear their conversation. “What have I ever done to make him hate me so?”

“It is hard for him to see you so happy with me, your enemy,” Glorfindel reasoned. “I can even understand that he sees it as treason. Still, to behave so in front of our son, that was truly uncalled for!”

Legolas shook his head, still crying in a mixture of pain, rage, and grief. “No, it is not that... I do not care what he thinks of me now. He knows nothing of me! But why, why was he never a brother to me when I was a child?” he demanded in helpless anger. “What is it that made them hate me so? I have always tried to be good, to win their love somehow, but not once did my _adar_ take me into his arms! They have no right to judge me now, not when they have never cared abut me before!”

“Hush, little one... they are not worth your tears.” Glorfindel tilted Legolas’ head up to gently kiss the salty liquid from his face. “I do not know the reason either, but I do know that it could not have been your fault, Legolas. _They_ should feel pain, not you – there is nothing a child could possibly do to rob it of its family’s affection. Or would you cease to love our Gîl if he were to destroy one of your books by accident, or perhaps frighten your Lainiell?”

“No, of course not,” Legolas sighed softly and rested his head against Glorfindel’s shoulder, feeling somewhat calmer now after these reassurances, although he still had to fight against his tears. “But it is hard to believe that it was no fault of mine when I have spent all of my childhood trying to find out how I was displeasing my _adar_. I know that you are right, my lord, that there is nothing that should have caused my _adar_ to cease loving me. Perhaps then it is because he has never loved me at all? Perhaps he has despised me since my birth, and I will never find out.”

“Perhaps one day you will meet your _naneth_ in Valinor, and she will tell you just why they have behaved so reprehensibly.”

Legolas smiled sadly and shook his head. “No, my lord, I do not think so... she did not sail west, and somehow, when I dared to ask, the answers always made it seem like she was gone from us for all time, and I would never meet her.”

“That is strange indeed,” Glorfindel mused, and once again reminded himself to find out more about his young prince’s mysterious past.

“There is not much known about her death to us in Imladris, although there were rumors that she was attacked by orcs, just like our poor Lady Celebrían – but our Lady eventually found peace in Valinor. I wonder why it is thought in your wood that your mother would not be granted such a fate?”

"I do not want to think about it,“ Legolas said softly. “I never knew her... she abandoned me as well. No,” he said, perking up as he gave Glorfindel a smile that was still tinged by sadness. “They do not matter to me now. I am yours, my lord, for as long as you want me, and I have our Gîl to care for now. That is enough for me.”

Glorfindel sighed softly. He could well understand Legolas’ fears that were hidden behing these words. _As long as I want him... and truly, it is no wonder he phrases it that way, for he has no power, no rights in this position that I have forced him into. Even if I were to tell him that I would always keep him by my side, what reason would he have to believe me?_

“Legolas...” he then ventured softly. “You know that if I were to meet you today, without the anger and the pain of war to cloud my heart, that I would not have forced you? It was – a dark time, for all of us. Never before have I been known for such cruelty, and never again will I cause you such torment.” He sighed, then shook his head and gently cupped Legolas’ face in his palm. “I am sorry, _pen vell_,” he whispered, noticing how Legolas’ eyes widened at the endearment. “It should not have been like that, your first time... the madness of war had darkened my heart, so much so that I almost killed you.”

”Ai, so then why did you do it? What did I do to make you want to hurt me so?” Legolas closed his eyes, trembling helplessly as he once again was forced to face his memories. "I wanted to die after that. I would _rather_ have died than bear the shame of having my innocence so cruelly taken from me.”

Glorfindel drew him into his arms and held him tightly for a moment, heartened to see that Legolas still clung to him for comfort, instead of fearing him as he had then. “There was nothing you did, Legolas; nothing but your beauty and your innocence, and the hate festering in my heart ever since I had to watch one of my warriors being mistreated by a company of yours....”

A single tear ran down Legolas’ cheek. “I thought you were one of the Valar when I first saw you... beautiful, magnificent like Ulmo risen from the sea. I did not think you might harm me, you seemed so noble, like a warrior lord of old, that I felt no fear, only awe...”

“And like a true lord, I should not have taken by force that which you were unwilling to give. I am sorry,” Glorfindel said again, gently caressing Legolas’ cheek.

“We cannot change the past, my lord... who knows what good may still come of it,” Legolas said bravely, moved by Glorfindel’s words despite himself. He did not know if he could simply accept Glorfindel’s apology and move on, but despite his misgivings, it felt good to hear it nevertheless. “After all, the the war stopped because I was in your power, and we have been given Gîl... What would have been my fate had I never met you? Certainly I would still be guarding my father’s horses in the forest, while all around me that senseless war would cost the lives of our warriors. And – you have been good to me, my lord. You have taught me so much, all the things that should have been my birthright in Mirkwood. Truly, my life is more like that of a prince in Imladris than it ever was at home.”

“You shall grow to be a warrior, Legolas, a prince strong and wise, the pride of your people. I promise you this - I shall see your exile lifted and you restored to your rightful position as prince of the Great Forest,” Glorfindel said earnestly and was glad to cause a small smile.

“Ah, so that Gîlríon will stand in line for the throne of Mirkwood as well?” Legolas could not resist teasing and was answered by a chuckle.

“No – I would see it lifted for your sake, Legolas.”

“I do not believe that it will ever come to pass, but I do thank you, my lord.” Legolas sighed, for a moment closing his eyes to enjoy the warmth and security of being enfolded in Glorfindel’s arms. “But I fear we will need to return soon, Gîl will be upset that we left him – and did you not have further plans for the day?”

“Yes, we will – and you might have to face your brother again,” Glorfindel said compassionately. “I do not know if the Lord and Lady have invited him to share their meal.”

Legolas took a deep breath, trying to calm himself and to appear braver than he actually felt at the prospect of meeting his brother again. “I do not fear him, my lord. As long as he does not hurt our Gîl again, he can think whatever he wants. And I think that even he knows better than to cause strife at our hosts’ table.”

“Then come, my brave one.“ Glorfindel moved to quickly steal a kiss from a surprised Legolas, noting in satisfaction that for a moment Legolas forgot about his worries. “Let us go and reassure our impatient little star, and then put some more meat on your bones, so that we can spar later without me having to fear breaking you.”

Legolas smiled and turned towards where they had left the path, but just at that moment Glorfindel’s expression changed as he gave the Sinda a thoughtful look.

“If I think about it, I should rather make use of this sudden moment of privacy... on your knees!” he then purred, resting one hand on Legolas’ shoulder to gently push him down. “You are still mine, despite my promise, and you will still fulfill your duties... won’t you, _prince_?”

“Yes, my lord,” Leglas answered breathlessly, his hands moving to open the lacing of Glorfindel’s leggings before he even realized what he was doing. Glorfindel was definitely right... he _was_ his, whether he liked it or not, and his body knew its master. It had only taken that dark, seductive purr to arouse him, although he knew that chances were that he would not be granted release until late that night.

Legolas carefully freed the large shaft, then took the tip into his mouth, sucking gently while he allowed his fingers to play with the heavy scrotum. When he let him slide deeper into his mouth he was rewarded by a low groan, and the bitter tang of the first few droplets of Glorfindel’s essence.

Suddenly, Legolas remembered how Celeirdúr had found him in a similar position – on his knees, with his lord’s member in his mouth as he serviced him. For a moment, fear flared up in him at the thought that Galuron might still be around, but then he calmed himself – Glorfindel would not do that to him, not now.

No, this was for Glorfindel’s pleasure alone, and probably also to make him realize that despite his lord’s promise to see him restored as a prince, he was still Glorfindel’s, to do with as he pleased. After all, what better way to exert dominance? There was nothing that made Legolas feel more submissive than kneeling before Glorfindel, trying his best to accept his lord’s swollen length deep into his throat while using lips and tongue to give him pleasure until his jaws felt sore from exertion.

When Glorfindel finally spilled himself with another groan, Legolas was quick to swallow as much as he could, cleaning off what he had missed with his tongue before he dutifully helped his lord to dress again.

“Yes... _now_ we can go,” Glorfindel said with a rather roguish grin, well aware that their activity had not left Legolas unaffected. “And behave during the meal, unless you want to shock your brother with this display...” He arched an eyebrow as he gave Legolas’ groin a pointed look, causing the prince to flush, and to pray that the walk back to their _talan_ would take care of his uncomfortable present situation.

\--------------------  
adar – father  
naneth – mother  
pen vell – dear one  
\----------------------


	4. Chapter 31-40

**31**

During the walk back to their talan, Legolas was mostly silent, trying to will away his erection without much success, as the arm that was wrapped around his waist as well as the soft, dark voice of his lord kept him aroused despite himself. Never had he been more grateful for the new clothes that he had been given, as the long tunic of heavy brocade hid his current state from the eyes of the Silvan elves they passed on their way.

It was only when they finally reached their destination that he realized that this particular trial would not be over so soon. The two guards were sitting on the floor of their talan, and Legolas tried to pull down the hemline of his tunic even more. Yet it seemed that at least for the moment, he was safe from this particular embarrassment. The two Noldor were completely focused on their young charge, who seemed to have forgotten about their earlier troubles as he squealed in delight at Fairion’s antics.

Legolas smiled in relief at seeing him so happy, and then moved on to their bedroom to change into more formal clothes for the meal at the royal table, while Glorfindel went to the bathroom to quickly clean himself. They did not have much time before they were expected, and so it was well that Glorfindel's warriors had managed to distract their son, as there was no time to reassure him or answer his questions now.

In their bedroom, Legolas pulled the tunic over his head and stared at his reflection in the mirror that hung on the wall. The slight curve at the front of his leggings made it very obvious that he was still aroused, and he groaned at the dampness he felt when he pressed his fingers against it to alleviate the ache of his demanding flesh. He could not appear this way in front of the Lady – he would have to change into another pair of leggings, and somehow control himself so that that pair would not be ruined as well.

With a sigh he stripped and rummaged through the chest they had brought, taking out a pair of light grey leggings and a white tunic that was embroidered with silver threads and small, glistening pearls. After another critical look into the mirror he undid the slender braids of youth that he was now permitted to wear. While Glorfindel still preferred to see him with his hair loose, that informality was now mostly reserved for the privacy of their rooms. He then took Glorfindel’s golden brush, blushing slightly at the memories this tool held for him, and quickly brushed his hair until it fell silky and straight down his back once more. After a moment’s hesitation, he gathered some strands and braided them in the fashion of the royal line of Mirkwood before he took his leggings from the bed to slip into them.

Glorfindel chose that exact moment to enter the bedroom, laughing softly when his eyes fell on Legolas’ still half-hard shaft.

“Ah, hungry for me... I like that!” he purred as he stepped up to the still naked youth to pull him against his chest, cradling his genitals in his palm. Legolas groaned softly and leaned against him, his breath coming faster as he was touched so intimately.

“Ai... Please, do not,” he moaned softly. “I will come if you touch me, my lord!”

Glorfindel chuckled and pressed a teasing kiss to the tip of Legolas’ ear. “No, you will not come – and do you know why that is?”

“Because you like to torment me,” Legolas groaned miserably. Glorfindel chuckled again and gently bit the ear. He then sucked on it until he felt the Sinda’s length hardening even more.

“What would you like, Legolas?” he then whispered gently into his ear. “Tell me – what would you like me to do to you right now?”

“Ai... do not tease me, my lord!” Legolas’ cheeks reddened as he rested helplessly against Glorfindel’s chest.

“Tell me, Legolas. Tell me, and if you are good, then later I might make your wish come true. " Glorfindel continued to breathe into Legolas’ ear, smiling knowingly when the youth closed his eyes and let out a trembling moan.

“I – I would like to sit on your lap, having you take me like that... with me moving on you,” Legolas admitted, flushed and fully aroused now as he trembled in Glorfindel’s arms.

“Ahh, yes... riding me. I think I will like that, watching you impale yourself on me for your own pleasure...” Glorfindel laughed and let go of Legolas, watching with amusement the disappointment that settled on Legolas’ face. “But that will come later, if you are good. Go dress now while I look after Gîl, and do not forget that you will feel no pleasure but by my hands... or", he lowered his voice with a wicked grin, "by my cock."

Legolas groaned in frustration at being left hard and wanting once again. How was he supposed to appear before the Lord and Lady like this? But he had sworn to obey, and so resigning himself to long hours of unfulfilled desire, he meekly replied, "Yes, my lord."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time they had reached the royal talan, Legolas was no longer in any danger of embarrassing himself. His feeling of dread at the thought of meeting his brother again was more than adequate to quash his desire.

When they entered the dining room, Galuron was already seated at the table, next to several Lothlórien nobles whom, by the stately robes they were wearing, Legolas took to be advisors. Ellonúr had also been invited, but upon their entry he turned to the Lórien diplomat seated beside him, and immediately struck up a conversation.

The Lord and Lady were seated as well, and Legolas found himself answering Celeborn’s smile as he remembered their conversation. He was not quite certain what the Lady thought of this side of her mate, but Legolas found himself strangely reassured when he thought of the Lord’s kind words.

Their own seats awaited them next to the Lord and Lady, and Legolas was glad of Glorfindel’s powerful presence next to him when he realized that he sat directly across from his older brother. Galuron’s jaw had clenched and his eyes had narrowed when Legolas sat down, and for a moment rage alighted in them – a rage so deep that Legolas flinched and lowered his eyes, disturbed by the depth of the dark emotion that greeted him.

It took a moment for Legolas to realize just why his brother had been so deeply affected by seeing him again. Apparently Galuron had been outraged by the display of the royal insignia, the elaborate braids that fell from Legolas’ temples and signified him as a member of the ruling house of Mirkwood. They were the same braids that Galuron himself was wearing, and for a moment Legolas faltered when he realized how similar they now looked – two princes of the Woodland Realm, arrayed in rich garments and wearing the royal braids.

Legolas could not help but remember the day his father had exiled him. What would happen if his father could see him now? Would he see him as a traitor - with his treason magnified by his flaunting of the royal braids? Would he truly take his sword to slay his youngest child as he had once threatened?

Legolas straightened, and while he did not meet his brother’s gaze again, he held himself proudly upright, his stance an obvious answer to Galuron’s indignation as he refused to be cowed. He would no longer torment himself with these questions – and he would not allow his brother to do so, either.

Perhaps it was Glorfindel’s earlier threat, or perhaps Galuron’s late-found sense of decorum, but after his initial angry reaction, the prince pretended that Legolas did not exist. Legolas was glad of it, and focused his attention on his son.

After a furtive glance at Galuron, Gîlríon had quickly been diverted by the colorful dishes, many of them exotic for a child that had spent all of his short life at the haven of Imladris. While Elrond’s table could boast of a variety of dishes influenced by the many kindreds of elves that had taken refuge there an age ago, Lórien’s fare was vastly influenced by its Lady, whose palate still remembered feasts in the Blessed Realm.

Excited by all that was new to him, Gîlríon demanded to know both the name and the ingredients of every of the exotic dishes, and when Legolas had to admit in embarrassment that the served victuals were unfamiliar to him as well, Celeborn immediately took over, satisfying the child’s curiosity by naming every dish before him.

This way, the meal passed mostly uneventfully. It was only when dessert was served that things began to heat up again. After Celeborn had patiently explained about Lothlórien’s culinary specialties, Gîlríon had begun to tell the Lord in his high, excited voice about how he had met his _tôr adar_ this morning, and at that reminder Glorfindel gave Galuron an angry look. Legolas had frozen, uncertain if he should intervene, but before he could stop his son, Gîlríon was recounting the strange events that had made him feel confused and upset.

“And then,” the child said anxiously, turning from Celeborn to Glorfindel, “then _tôr adaren_ made _ada_ cry. Why was he so mean to him, _atto_? And what is a whore?”

Someone gasped loudly, while the rest of the gathered elves fell into a shocked silence at Gîlríon’s question.

Legolas sat frozen at the table, pale as freshly fallen snow, and did not dare to raise his eyes from where they rested now on his plate. His fingers were clenched so tightly around the cutlery that they trembled, and he knew that if he heard even one word of gloating from his brother, he would leap at him - leap at him, and drive the sharp knife into his hateful heart.

\-----------------------  
_tôr adar_ \- father’s brother  
_atto_ – affectionate form of "father" [Quenya]  
_ada_ – affectionate form of "father" [Sindarin]  
\-----------------------

  
**32**

“It is a shameful name and a lie", Glorfindel said to his son through gritted teeth. "It is something your _tôr adar_ said to hurt your _adar_, because your _tôr adar_ has not yet learned how to behave as a prince Like you said, Gîl nín, it was something he said because he wanted to make your _ada_ cry. If he were a _true_ prince, your _tôr adar_ would kneel now to beg for forgiveness for the insult!”

Glorfindel fixed Galuron with a look of such fierce anger that the Sinda paled, but even in the face of Glorfindel’s formidable rage, the pride instilled into the prince by his father and tutors alike could not bear to be so chastised in front of Lothlórien’s rulers.

“Insult? It was nothing but the truth!” Galuron spat, leaning forward to glower at his brother. “He is an abomination, cursed by the Valar to be nothing but a broodmare to those stronger than him. Ai, _adar_ should have left you in the forest after your birth for the Wargs to find!”

“Enough!” No longer able to just silently bear his brother’s insults, Legolas sprang up. “You will not talk to me so in front of my son! Have you no shame, Galuron? I will meet you on the training field with a sword, if you so desire, but to upset my son should be below even the likes of you!”

“Nay, first it is _my_ right to demand satisfaction!” Glorfindel growled, and stood as well. His muscles tensed as he stared at the prince, ready to lunge at him at the next provocation. “Have I not warned you before? You will either meet me with your sword this eve, or apologize to Legolas right now!”

“Never will I apologize to that _abomination_!” Galuron’s face was flushed with anger, and he clenched his fingers to fists as if he were preparing for an attack, getting up as well to glare at Glorfindel.

Confused and upset, Gîlríon made a frightened sound. His lips trembled as he looked at his parents, and tears began to roll down his cheeks. Pushing down the urge to lash out at his brother, Legolas sat down again and drew Gîlríon into his arms, trying to force himself to be calm so that he could soothe his upset child.

“That is enough!” Celeborn stood up, giving them all a stern look. “This is no way to act at table - especially in front of a child, son of Thranduil! I would very much appreciate it if in the future you were to take your quarrels elsewhere, instead of burdening my Lady with it!”

Galuron scowled but nevertheless sat down, although his expression still showed the hatred he felt for both Glorfindel and his brother. The seneschal refused to follow his example, and instead took a step to the side so that he came to stand behind Legolas, to glower at Galuron from that position. On either side of Galuron, the advisors stared fixedly at their plates, anxious not to incur their lord's disfavor as well. Further down the table, a few were perched stiffly at the edges of their seats, obviously uncomfortable with being forced to witness the quarrel between the princes and looking as if they were only waiting for a chance to ask the Lady’s leave to flee the talan.

Galadriel rested one hand on her husband’s arm. “Sit down again, _hervenn_. Let us try not to frighten Gîlríon even more.” For a moment her gaze rested on Legolas, who was still holding his son in his arms. For one heartbeat, it almost felt to the prince as if a wave of comforting warmth enveloped him, but then her gaze moved on to now focus on his brother.

Gîlríon had suddenly quieted in Legolas’ protective embrace, as if he had experienced the same calming feeling, and when Legolas looked up again, he found that his brother looked subdued as well. His face was still flushed with anger, but he seemed capable of controlling himself now. Legolas found himself wondering if the calming presence he had felt had perhaps been a manifestation of the Lady’s power. His brother, however, did not look at peace - his look was more alike to those he wore after enduring Thranduil’s harsh criticism, and Legolas smiled slowly as he thought that this was perhaps just what he had endured from the Lady as well.

“I am most surprised,” Galadriel said gently, although her voice held a strange undercurrent of power, “that you hold the blessings of your heritage in such disregard in the Greenwood. It pains me to hear you insult the Valar so, Galuron; you would do well to realize that by continuing to slight their gift as a curse, you might one day incur their wrath.”

Then she turned, giving Legolas a smile that seemed to him as warm and brilliant as the rays of the sun. “Tell me, Legolas, do you think of your gift as a curse as well?”

“No, my Lady,” Legolas said slowly and gave her a hesitant smile before he pressed a kiss to Gîlríon’s temple. His son only yawned in reaction, drowsing against Legolas’ chest as if he had already forgotten about his earlier upset. “This is not what I might have chosen for myself, but... No,” he repeated thoughtfully. He still remembered the humiliation and pain he had been forced to endure because of the gift, but would he truly change all of that if he had the power - if to do so meant that Gîlríon would not have been born? “No, our Gîl is no curse. You are right, we have been blessed,” he said firmly and held Gîlríon tightly embraced.

“Yes... our son is a blessing,” Glorfindel agreed softly and tenderly rested his hand on Legolas’ shoulder.

“Indeed, that he is... perhaps more than you know, Lord Glorfindel.” Galadriel’s eyes gleamed with joy as she beheld the small family in front of her. “The Valar have not forgotten your noble sacrifice, nor have they failed to see the centuries of devoted service you have rendered the house of Eärendil.”

Then she once again rested her eyes on Legolas. “You are right not to believe your brother’s words. It is no curse at all, but a blessing of your line. Has it truly been forgotten in the realm of Thranduil how there were once two warriors in the service of Elu Thingol who loved each other? Their love for each other was so strong that Melian herself asked the Valar to grant these two the one thing that they both craved, but was not possible - a child born from their love."

“The Valar blessed the union of these two with a child, Legolas, and this gift still runs true in the blood of their descendents. It is sad indeed that your father no longer realizes this blessing for what it is and calls it a curse. So much darkness has befallen our people; we should be even more thankful for the wonder that your son is. Never forget that the Valar have blessed you, Legolas. Never forget that you bear the legacy of a love that was so pure that it moved even the Valar to compassion.”

“Nobody ever told me that story,” Legolas whispered, awed by what he had heard. He had stopped trying to think about why he had been able to bear a child although he was male, as he had always feared that it might have truly been a curse, that this might have been the reason why his father had never been able to love him like his other sons.

Galuron scowled. “Fairy tales meant for children!” he sneered, but quickly fell silent when once again the eyes of the Lady came to rest on him.

“Please excuse me,” a voice unheard so far broke the ensuing silence. “I am still very tired from the journey. By your leave, I think I shall return to my talan for now, my Lady.”

“Of course, Ellonúr,” the Lady agreed. “Perhaps you would join me in my gardens for a walk this evening?”

The advisor hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Certainly, my Lady. If you will excuse me now...” He stood and then left the talan without another word.

Legolas frowned. From what he had observed of the advisor so far, he was not one to flee a conflict – on the contrary, would he not be delighted to see Legolas insulted? After all, the advisor still had to remember how Glorfindel had rejected him for a mere Sindarin captive. Yet one glance at Glorfindel was enough to tell Legolas that there might be more behind this which he did not understand. Where the Lady looked thoughtful, Glorfindel seemed sad, although he had only moments ago observed their sleeping son with such unadulterated joy.

“We shall leave as well, my Lady, my Lord,” Glorfindel excused themselves after he had watched Ellonúr leave. “As you can see, our son is in need of his bed, and I fear that the day has already held enough excitement for him.”

“Of course, my friend!” Celeborn stood as well to accompany them to the spiraling stairs that led down to the ground. At his movement, most of the gathered advisors hastily followed Ellonúr’s example and got up to take their leave as well. “Would you join me again this evening for some wine? There is still much for us to discuss.”

“I might – although I might also be busy at your training grounds, practicing with my sword,” Glorfindel said with a soft growl, turning his head to glare at Galuron who haughtily lifted his head.

“Careful, Glorfindel – my Lady will not allow more of this quarrel. But still...” Celeborn lowered his voice to a whisper, “I personally would not mind seeing you teaching that impertinent prince a lesson with your sword. Just take care that it is only his pride that is wounded.” He grinned, but quickly smothered that expression when his wife turned her head towards him. After a clap to Glorfindel’s shoulder he turned back to listen to Galuron stiffly thanking him for the meal, while Legolas and Glorfindel descended the stairs carrying their still sleeping son.

\--------------------  
tôr adar – father’s brother  
adar – father  
hervenn - husband  
\-------------------

  
**33**

Glorfindel gave Legolas a thoughtful look. The young Sinda still knelt next to the small bed where their son was now slumbering, watching him with a pensive smile. At the moment, Legolas seemed at peace, but Glorfindel wondered whether that was truly the case. Certainly Legolas had been hurt by his brother’s words, hurt more than even the reassuring words of the Lady of Light were able to heal.

Strangely enough, Glorfindel found himself no longer angry at Galuron – at the moment, his thoughts were fully occupied by Legolas, and he felt a strange sadness taking hold of his heart. When had this happened, he wondered? When had his feelings changed so much? When had the slave he had loved to hurt become so dear to him that he knew he would protect him with all his strength?

No, he was asking the wrong questions. If he were honest – and the time to lie to himself had passed long ago – he would admit that Legolas meant more to him than he would ever have been able to imagine that day he first saw him. Galadriel had seen that as well – why else would she have insinuated that their meeting had been preordained, a reward for his sacrifice in defending Gondolin? Glorfindel might shy away from the thought that his hurting Legolas had all been a part of some large plan, yet he knew better than to disavow the Lady’s words.

But now was not the time for thoughts such as these. Later maybe, he would share his thoughts with Celeborn, who was called ‘the Wise’ not without reason. Now it was time to distract Legolas from his own thoughts. His brother’s words had wounded him, that much was obvious, but instead of allowing the youth to brood and let the bitterness in him fester, it was time for a different approach.

"Let him sleep,“ Glorfindel said gently. He bent down to press a loving kiss to Gîlríon’s brow before he straightened again, taking Legolas’ hand to pull him back towards their own bed. “He needs his rest – and I think we can make good use of a quiet hour. Unless you would rather wait until tonight, or maybe tomorrow, to have me grant your wish?”

When Legolas flushed and shook his head, Glorfindel chuckled, then let go of his hand as he sat down on the bed, giving Legolas a slow smile. “Come here,” he ordered and patted the space next to him, indicating for the youth to join him on the bed.

Legolas looked at him, confused that for once he would not be told to strip first, as Glorfindel usually enjoyed it to see him slowly baring his naked body for his lord’s pleasure. But apparantly this was not what Glorfindel wanted today, and Legolas knew better than to disobey – especially when he was about to be given a reward.

“Come,” Glorfindel repeated and then pulled Legolas down onto the bed, so that they were resting next to each other. With a sigh, Glorfindel buried his face in Legolas’ hair and breathed in deeply. In turn, the prince’s heart began to beat hard and fast in his chest at the sudden closeness. It was overwhelming, always – no matter how many times he lay beneath his lord, feeling his strong body, breathing his scent, it overcame him like potent wine and rendered him incapable of thought while his body yearned for Glorfindel’s touch.

“Tell me... are you aching for me already?” Glorfindel breathed, and Legolas flushed even before his lord’s fingers were pressing against the fabric that covered his hardened flesh.

“Yes, I ache,” Legolas whispered with a soft, plaintive moan while his length was being skillfully massaged. “Please... do not tease me!”

“Do not fear.” Glorfindel smiled and then moved to cover Legolas’ lips with his own, kissing him so sweetly and tenderly that Legolas feared his heart would burst from the ache. For a moment he wondered if gentleness was not worse – to be treated with such affection by the one who should be his enemy, while his own brother hated him. But then Glorfindel tugged open the lacing of his leggings, and the feel of the warm, strong fingers right against his most sensitive parts made him forget his thoughts as he moaned again.

“Beautiful...” Glorfindel breathed against his arched throat, then lapped at the expanse of pale skin to taste him, humming in approval of the enticing mixture of sweet oil and the tang of sweat. “I will exhaust you today, my sweet one – I will have you ride me until you are as sweaty as after a round of sparring, and you will not be allowed release until your thighs and flanks tremble with exhaustion, like a horse ridden nearly to death. And even then...” He paused, cherishing how Legolas’ breath had quickened and his lips were parted, glistening wetly and beckoning to be used. “Yes, and even then I will not allow you to come until you beg me for it, beg and plead until I finally grant you your release. And you, my wanton little colt, you will come without a single touch from me, moaning and trembling as you find your pleasure solely from impaling yourself on me.”

By now Legolas was whimpering. He had grown impossibly harder in Glorfindel’s warm palm, and his eyes were soft and dark with hunger. “Yes, lord,” he whispered, “yes, please!”

Glorfindel gave him another lazy smile, well pleased with his reaction. “Then undress, if you want that, and take off my clothes as well!”

With only the softest, yearning sigh to betray his need, Legolas stood and took off his clothes, as his lord had commanded. Then, he began with the one task that never failed to move him – unclothing the Lord of the Golden Flower. Truly, the Elda was magnificent – and compared to himself, like a noble charger next to a starved peasant’s pony, Legolas could not help to think. When clothed in his blue tunic and golden armor, Glorfindel was a vision to behold, all grace and deadly power, coupled with the otherwordly glow of his _fëa_ and the bright eyes of one who had dwelt in the Halls of Mandos and been granted the grace of rebirth.

Yet this Glorfindel was even more intimidating – the Glorfindel only a very few were allowed to see. Gloriously naked, golden skin stretching over taut muscles, golden locks flowing freely onto the pillow, and between his legs, his swollen member, hard and dark with blood, and huge...

Legolas flushed when he realized that he had been staring at his lord, and bowed his head to escape the amused look he knew he had earned himself. Instead, he rested his hand on Glorfindel’s chest, fingers splayed wide, to feel the powerful muscles bulge beneath him. “Like one of the Valar,” he whispered in awe, keeping his eyes averted in a sudden spell of shyness. But it was the truth – if only his brother saw Glorfindel like this, he certainly would no longer be able to find fault with Legolas! It was impossible not to surrender to the lord, to not feel awed by his ancient power and the natural mastery he exuded...

“Then worship me, my beauty,” Glorfindel said and raised Legolas’ chin so that their eyes finally met. “Worship me, in the way you have begged for. There is, after all, no one better suited to the task than the most beautiful prince of the Mortal Lands, the one whose soul shines so brightly with his innocence and sweetness...”

_Nay, naïveté and weakness, if you were to ask my brother_, Legolas could not help but think. Yet the lord's words had touched him. “You flatter me,” he whispered, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment at both endearment and praise, although his eyes shone with a shy pleasure.

“’’tis no flattery!“ Glorfindel disagreed, his smile widening as he openly appraised the bared body of the prince, allowing his eyes to linger for a moment on the slender column of flesh that arched out from the Sinda’s body. “No, you are truly a beauteous vision to behold! But even more than this, I want to behold you trembling above me, crying out your pleasure.”

“Your command is my pleasure, oh lord,” Legolas said and delighted in the chuckle this repartee produced.

“Less words, more action now, _roch neth_,” Glorfindel then said in a husky purr, sprawling back among the many cushions in an obvious invitation for Legolas to take the initiative.

And by now, Legolas was aroused enough to simply crawl over to his lord and impale himself – if it were not for the small part of him that was not yet so far gone as to not be embarrassed to death by such an action. No, he would have to start in another way... and he knew a way that had always been Glorfindel’s favorite.

Slowly, he moved in between Glorfindel’s spread legs, taking care to keep his movements graceful and making certain that his long hair was dragging over Glorfindel’s thighs, teasing the sensitive skin in the most delicious way. When this produced a soft sigh of obvious enjoyment, he grew more daring and actually allowed his hair to fall forward so that the soft, silky mass pooled around Glorfindel’s hardened length. This caress now produced a groan, and Legolas smiled. “Do I please you, lord?” he asked coyly, and found his answer in a hand that wrapped around his hair and tugged him down in an unmistakable command. Legolas laughed softly, more than content with the reaction, and then bent to his task, teasing the head of Glorfindel’s erection with kittenish laps of his tongue until his lord’s moans grew in volume, and he could taste that first tang of arousal on his tongue.

Already Legolas had prepared himself with oil, as his lord asked him to do every day, but for good measure he took Glorfindel’s shaft deep into his mouth to get him slick with saliva, before he finally let him slip out again. Then he looked up, searching Glorfindel’s face for any sign that his action might have displeased. This was the first time he could remember that he was allowed to take control like this in bed – even if it was only control over his own submission – and although he knew that Glorfindel would not hesitate to tell him if he did wrong, he still felt a light sense of insecurity.

But Glorfindel did not look displeased at all. Instead, he was giving him a hungry look from half-closed eyes, and when Legolas failed to act, uttered an impatient sigh. “Well?” he asked huskily. “Will you not take your reward, my prince?”

“Certainly, my lord,” Legolas answered, his voice breathy with excitement as he positioned himself and then, finally, slowly sank down. The air escaped his lungs in a long, drawn-out moan; the pleasure of being invaded in such a way was too keen to be suffered silently. There was pain as well – Glorfindel was just too large for it to not hurt without more preparation, and the welts on his skin still felt uncomfortably sore. But the pain paled at the sensation of being filled so completely... of seeing his lord close his eyes and groan in pleasure.

“Oh, Valar!” Legolas breathed when he was at last seated on Glorfindel’s thighs, his back arched and his head thrown back so that his hair once again teased over Glorfindel’s skin. He was filled, taken, helpless with pleasure and he trembled just like Glorfindel had foretold he would, his heart beating impossibly fast as his body, his soul even were bared, possessed in this most intimate way.

This seemed to be so much more than could be described by the mere word "pleasure" - this felt as if it would rend his _fëa_ apart if it ended, and yet would lead to the same gruesome close if they did not finish it soon, in a burst of ecstasy so bright it would take away their breath.

“Ai, Elbereth!” Legolas whimpered, already moving and growing more and more undone each time Glorfindel’s shaft brushed against that well-known place deep inside him. There was nothing that could stop him now - no command or threat of punishment, not even if he were told that their coupling would produce another child. Not now, not when it felt like he would die without the painful intensity of being taken by Glorfindel, stretched, opened, being made to surrender to the one who had once and for all proven that he was lord not only of his body, but of his _fëa_ as well.

Glorfindel’s name was no more than a sob on his lips by the time he came, shaking and clenching around Glorfindel who found his pleasure at the same time. Long moments passed, and by the time conscious thought returned to Legolas, he was resting on top of Glorfindel, safely ensconced in his arms with their lips almost touching, sharing each other’s breath.

“Forgive me, my lord,” Legolas finally sighed, although he still felt too exhausted to move. “I did not wait for your command... I am sorry! But... it just was too much...”

Glorfindel chuckled softly. “My poor little prince. I fear that this transgression will have to be punished, do you not agree?”

“Yes, lord,” Legolas muttered, keeping his eyes averted.

“It will wait until tomorrow morning, though. I think it might please me to redraw those red lines on your bottom – you heal too fast for my decorations, _ roch neth_.”

Legolas sighed in weary acceptance, and finally looked up to meet his lord’s gaze, reassured by that fact that there was no trace of anger or disappointment to be found in his voice. “As you wish, my lord.”

Glorfindel’s eyes were calm and peaceful, and he pressed a tender kiss to Legolas’ brow. “Rest, dear one... rest for now,” he whispered, and Legolas nodded. Soon they would have to get up again and clean themselves, but for now he was content to rest like this, with the scent of their lovemaking still heavy in the air and their sweat slowly drying on their skin.

  
\------------------------  
_ roch neth_ \- colt  
_fëa_ \- soul/spirit  
\------------------------

  
**34**

It was dark when Legolas woke, and for a moment he felt disoriented, as if somebody or something had called out to him. There was a strange sense of urgency in him, a feeling of being needed somewhere, yet all around him everything was quiet, and Glorfindel held him securely in his arms.

Still feeling uneasy, Legolas carefully disentangled himself from his lord’s limbs and sat up to light the candle on his nightstand. The room gave him no answers; everything was silent and undisturbed. Glorfindel slept on – that was unusual, and Legolas frowned. His movements should have been enough to wake the warrior, yet despite his unease, Legolas felt that he should not wake him. He did not know what was happening, but he could not change the feeling that he was awake for a reason, and that this reason concerned only him.

Slowly, he got up. He was naked, and he knew that his skin still bore the scent of their sweat and their passion, but whatever was happening was important enough that he simply slipped an unadorned, pale robe over his head without bothering to wash.

Although the call was strong now, he hesitated to leave their _talan_. Finally, he quickly moved back to their bed, kneeling next to it and raising a hand to gently stroke over the mane of golden hair that framed his lord’s face. He did not get to see him this unguarded very often; his warrior’s reflexes ensured that Glorfindel woke when Legolas did. But now, Glorfindel was relaxed and deeply asleep, his blue eyes unfocused as he wandered the paths of his dreams.

Often, Legolas had heard a sleeping person described as vulnerable-looking, yet that was not a word he would have ever used for the Lord of the Golden Flower. Even in reverie, Glorfindel was magnificent; like a lion asleep he was threatening even at his most relaxed, beautiful and lethal.

“Sleep, my lord,” Legolas whispered and leaned forward to gently brush his lips against Glorfindel’s. “Sleep and do not worry – I shall be in your arms once more when you awake.”

Then he stood and left the _talan_, feeling secure in the knowledge that both Glorfindel and Gîlríon were deeply asleep and felt nothing of the strong call that had woken him, even though he did not know how he came by that knowledge.

Outside, it was dark as well – Ithil was not visible in the sky this night, yet Elbereth’s gift, the multitude of stars, shone all the brighter for it. And the light was enough for Legolas who walked along thin bridges and steep stairs with the security of one who was not sure if he was not walking through the landscape of a dream after all.

Yet very soon, Legolas had reached the forest floor, leaving behind the _telain_ where elves were fast asleep. This part of the forest was filled by the incandescent luminance of the stars to such an extent that it almost seemed as if each blade of grass, each leaf and branch were glowing. The thick moss beneath his bare feet was cold and wet, yet it felt unbearably good as it caressed his toes. There was a strange power at work here, Legolas was certain of that, and although he had no idea what was happening to him ever since he had woken, he knew what had brought him there as soon as he entered the glade where Galadriel waited for him at her Mirror – and perhaps he had known all along. A deep sense of preordination filled him, and he slowly walked towards the Lady of Light, bowing his head in greeting as he reached her.

“Greetings, child,” the Lady said, and like the grass, it seemed to Legolas as if her voice was glowing as well. “I know that you have questions. If it is your desire, you shall look into my Mirror.”

“Will it show me answers?” Legolas whispered, staring in awe at the calm surface of the water that seemed not only to mirror the light of the stars but to glow with the same power, as if one of the stars had chosen to sleep within the Mirror instead of joining its brethren in the night sky.

“Answers, questions, riddles – sometimes they can be one and the same. You will see what was, what is, and what might be – yet often, things are different than they might appear. You might come by knowledge you do not wish to have. No one will blame you if you choose not to look.”

Legolas was silent for a time. “I thank you, my Lady,” he finally spoke again. “It is true, there are many things that I would not like to see, and perhaps it would indeed be better for me to leave this glade without looking – yet for all of my life, there have been secrets that have been kept hidden from me. If I let this chance pass, I fear that I will always rue it. No, I shall look into your Mirror, Lady, and see whatever visions the Valar send me, even though they might hurt me. I would have the truth that my father always denied me.”

Galadriel smiled, and gently touched his cheek. “Fear not, son of Thranduil. The Valar have blessed you – there shall come a day when you will know all that you have always wished to know. Now come, child of the Great Wood, step closer and look into my Mirror.”

Slowly, Legolas did as he was told. He did not feel fear – it all seemed unreal, like a dream that Glorfindel would wake him from any moment now. Yet he did not wake when his hands touched the rim of the bowl. Instead, the stars mirrored on the water’s surface began to move and rearrange, showing other constellations and paling as Tilion began his nightly journey among them.

The stars were shining down onto a dense forest – it was Mirkwood, although it had not yet come to be called by that name. This was Greenwood the Great, a light and airy forest of verdant leaves and moss-covered glades, and in a clearing surrounded by ancient oaks and beeches, he saw his father standing. He looked young, and happier than Legolas had ever seen him before. He was holding the hands of a lovely, young maiden – his mother, Legolas suddenly realized. Her face, her hair... she looked just like him! And she could not have been much older than he was now; she looked as if she had only just reached the age of majority. Then the stars moved, and the moon waxed and waned. The two elves were no longer alone; now they were surrounded by a large crowd who wore festive clothes, while his parents were clad in white and had flowers woven into their hair. Two rings of gold gleamed on their fingers, and as they spoke, a light filled their eyes.

As Legolas realized that he was witnessing the wedding of his parents, the vision began to change, the stars paling as the brightness of Anor filled the sky. It was a beautiful day, but it was no longer Mirkwood he beheld – instead he saw mountains, higher than any mountains that he had ever seen. He saw a city of white stones hidden among them, and when he breathed the word, _Gondolin_ \- for how could this be anything else? – smoke shrouded his vision, smoke that came from the burning city. And then there came fire, red and yellow flames that hissed and burned, and at their center a shadow. Legolas gripped the rim of the Mirror tighter and cried out, yet he could not look away when an elf with golden hair and golden armor stepped forward, raising his sword to bar the demon’s path.

“No, my Lord!” Legolas breathed in horror, reaching out as if to touch Glorfindel. Yet the warrior was now gone, and with him the sun - leaving Legolas in a vast cave, alone with the Balrog, who roared and rushed towards him in a fury of flame. He saw himself, armed with a bow, and behind him a grief-struck figure, small as a child, and a sense of loss assailed him, a grief so unimaginable that he felt like he was being torn apart.

And yet, in the blink of an eye, the dark cave was gone, and once more Anor’s light filled his vision. The scene he saw was now familiar – it was the lake in the forest, and he was guarding the horses. And there was Glorfindel, coming out of the water, naked and wet and the epitome of masculine beauty. Legolas trembled as he saw himself stare at the stranger, and tried to force himself to close his eyes, but the Mirror would not let him. _Ai, Valar, do not make me see this... I cannot bear to see this! I will hate him if you make me live through this again, and I cannot afford to hate him!_ Yet the Valar did not seem to listen, for there they were, sitting beneath the apple trees, Glorfindel’s arm slung around his shoulder, and then there it came, his first kiss...

Legolas sighed as he remembered what it had felt like, how pleasurable it had been despite his surprise at the stranger’s action, and resigned himself to witnessing how his innocence had been taken from him by a Glorfindel who seemed so much darker, so much more ruthless than the Glorfindel he now knew. Yet, something was different now... there was no fight, he was not thrown to the ground, his clothes ripped off. Instead, there were more kisses, gentle and sweet, and Glorfindel leaning close to whisper words into his ear. From the shy smile on his face, he was certain that these were words of praise and adoration – words which Legolas had never heard before at that time in his life. He shivered, feeling strangely betrayed as he saw himself trustingly surrendering to Glorfindel who made love to him so gently that he began to weep at being forced to witness this.

The scene in the Mirror grew blurry, but it was not caused by the tears that slid down his cheeks – the image had changed and now showed him pregnant, his belly swollen, seated next to Glorfindel at a table in Imladris. Elrond was there as well, as were Celeborn and Haldir, but Glorfindel did not pay them much attention as he smiled at Legolas, resting his hand on his belly from time to time and trying to feed him with small pieces of fruit while Legolas smiled and stole a kiss from his lips. The elves around them seemed to be discussing something, and there was his brother Galuron, obviously uncomfortable, yet still signing his name on a piece of parchment that had already been signed by Elrond.

Legolas’ eyes widened when he realized that there were slender rings of silver gleaming on their index fingers. _Betrothed... nay, that cannot be!_ he cried silently, shaking his head in disbelief and horror, and then the image was gone, swept away by scenes of a battle flashing by in rapid succession. There were orcs and warg-riders, hideous creatures of darkness running through a forest - _Mirkwood_! There was a battle, flying arrows and spears... and blood, blood everywhere! Elves of Mirkwood were dying, helpless before the onslaught, and soon the only ones left standing were Sauron’s creatures.

A cry of unimaginable pain and grief filled Legolas’ ears, and for a moment he feared he would be sick as in front of his shocked eyes, a fair-haired Sindarin warrior was held down by two orcs and raped by a third. Then another orc came, and another, and then, mercifully, the image changed again.

Legolas was panting, his eyes wide and fearful as he tried to steel himself for more horrors, yet what he saw next was a relief – a pregnant elf lying on a bed with his face turned to the side, hidden beneath the fall of his long, fair hair. A golden ring adorned the forefinger of the hand that was resting on his belly. Legolas recognized the window-less chamber – from the layout and decor, it must be situated in the royal wing, and there was only one elf in all of their family who had that exact hue of hair.

That was him then, a future vision of himself – pregnant again, but then, he had always known that Glorfindel would want more children. And certainly that price was not too high to pay if it meant that he would be allowed back into his father’s realm, even given a room in the royal wing. His father would forgive him one day - would one day even love him!

Legolas tried to make the vision stay, begging for answers, begging for something that would reassure him that it would indeed one day happen that way, but he could not command the Mirror. The image blurred and morphed, but there he was again, the fair-haired elf that could only be his future self. Legolas sighed but then fell silent, frozen with horror when the elf moved and revealed a face wounded so horribly it was hardly recognizable as that of an elf anymore. Long, deep scratches filled with dripping red blood gouged his face, and more blood dripped from his fingernails which clawed the bedding. His lips were bitten through and dripping blood as well, twisted into an animalistic snarl of hate and agony. Then he opened his mouth in a silent scream, screaming and screaming and twisting on the bed to which he was bound until the blanket slipped down, and now it was Legolas who screamed in horror as he saw the swollen belly dark and disfigured and covered with oozing, dripping wounds and something _moving_ inside it...

A healer was there, as was his father, his cheeks wet with tears and his eyes filled with horror. The healer was gesturing towards the pregnant elf, speaking fast, and Legolas thought that he understood what the elf was saying... _Monster... cursed... tainted!_

The king shook his head violently, but the healer’s anguish only grew. He took Thranduil’s shoulder, shaking him, and when the king closed his eyes and seemed to almost fall apart from the force of his sobs, the healer turned away and picked up a dagger, now crying as well as he walked towards the suffering elf...

“No!” the voice of his father sobbed in his head, and _No!_ Legolas screamed, and “No...” his mother breathed as she took one last step forward off a ledge, her pale face covered with tears and her golden hair fluttering behind her like a banner as she fell and fell and fell...

\-----------  
_talan (pl. telain)_ – flet  
_Ithil_ – moon  
_Tilion_ – the steersman of the moon  
_Anor_ \- sun

_Legolas' comparing Glorfindel to a lion might look strange at a first glance, but there must have been lions in the southern areas of Middle-earth. There are words for "lion" in both Sindarin and Quenya, and certainly Legolas might have chanced upon a description and maybe even a picture of one in Elrond's extensive library._  
\-----------------------------------------

 

**35**

It was dark when Glorfindel woke, and he knew at once that something was not right. The room was silent – too silent. It lacked the soft sound of Legolas’ breathing, and Glorfindel missed the warmth of the lithe body curled against him to which he had grown so accustomed.

Of course, Legolas could have gotten up because he had heard Gîlríon make a sound – but then, Glorfindel would have been able to hear both of them in the next room.

No, something was not as it should be, and Glorfindel could almost feel the power of the Lady of Light in the air.

After a quick glance into the other room to make sure that Gîlríon was still securely asleep, he hastily donned a simple tunic and a pair of leggings. Unthinking habit made him gird his sword belt around his waist, but he left his weapon where it was leaning against the wall. No matter what had happened, he doubted that he would need a sword while in Caras Galadhon.

By now he was almost certain that he knew where Legolas was, although he could not have said whether that thought pleased or frightened him. There were many things that had been kept from Legolas, so many secrets that he had a right to know... So perhaps it was a good thing that the Lady had taken it into her own hand to allow Legolas a look into her fabled Mirror. It might serve to finally make him realize that he was more important than he thought.

Glorfindel sighed as he hastened along the delicately twisting wooden pathways and bridges that connected the large _telain_ here at the heart of Caras Galadhon. There had to be a reason why he had woken, and he feared that he knew what it was. He did not trust the Mirror – nay, to speak the truth, he feared it. He had never dared to look into it himself, although he could see the gentle invitation to partake of its wisdom in the thoughtful looks the Lady of the Wood gave him every now and then. Yet the Mirror was dangerous, and deep inside he knew that he still bore wounds that even the long time of reflection in Mandos’ Halls had not completely healed - wounds that he feared to have the Mirror open anew. Who could say what it had shown Legolas, and how it might have affected the youth?

The sense of urgency in him only grew when he finally reached the ground. He might not know what Legolas would see, but he knew that Legolas needed him. The young prince had known little enough of love and affection in his short life, but had been given more than a fair share of pain. Whatever the Mirror might show him, Glorfindel wagered that it would only bring more pain for Legolas.

Glorfindel had never visited the glade of the Mirror before, yet nevertheless his feet knew the way. The closer he came, the more he could feel the Lady’s power. It hung in the air like a silvery melody, and despite his misgivings, Glorfindel could not help but rejoice at the feelings and memories it woke. Too long had it been since he had walked along the shores of the Blessed Realm, the bustling streets of Tirion or the peaceful pastures of Yavanna.

Suddenly he felt a powerful yearning to quit this land - to cross back over the Sea and to be at peace, free of the quarrels of unimportant realms. Why should he, who had walked with Turgon in Gondolin, who had followed Fingolfin over the Sea, now let the madness of a backwards Sindarin king trouble his mind?

Yet he had sworn to serve the heir of Eärendil, and whatever else he might have become, he was no oathbreaker. He would serve Elrond as best as he could, even if it meant another 500 years of emnity with Oropher’s son. At least, no matter what further burdens the Valar heaped on him, they had also blessed him with Legolas.

With renewed purpose Glorfindel made to enter the glade, but then slowed when he suddenly heard voices – voices he knew.

“Do not refuse my offer so lightly, Ellonúr,” a grave voice warned – a voice that could only belong to Celeborn. And while Glorfindel was impatient to get to Legolas and see for himself what the Mirror’s magic had wrought, he could not help his curiosity when he heard the name of his friend and erstwhile lover, and so stopped to listen.

“Nay – what you offer is not what I need, and you know it! You and your Lady, you cannot help me – you do not want to help me! But there is one who can, and who will! So do not seek to hinder me, my Lord; I know what it is that I am doing!”

“Do you really?” Celeborn asked. “I am not so certain. You are hurt, Ellonúr, your _fëa_ is wounded and I can see that you need help. I am not Glorfindel, nor am I Haldir, yet I can wield cane and whip just as masterfully.”

“Do not say his name – I was a fool to seek him out! He has changed... He is no longer my friend or else he would never have refused me when I needed him so! And you, my Lord, you cannot give me what I need to forget – but your Marchwarden can, and I will no longer refuse his offer."

Celeborn sighed. “Ellonúr, that is a bad decision – certainly you can see that. I know that you have been hurt, yet Haldir in his own way is wounded as well. It will not work... Instead of healing each other’s _fëar_, I fear you will only cause each other more harm. And believe me, Ellonúr, I do not want to see either of you hurt!"

“No, leave me be!” Ellonúr sounded close to tears now, and Glorfindel frowned. He had never before heard his friend sound so agitated... “It is my decision in the end, and I do not want that which you offer! I will make my own decisions, and my own mistakes!”

Glorfindel hesitated after hearing this last outburst. Celeborn and Ellonúr were leaving now, and if he wanted to save his friend from the disaster his decision would certainly prove to be, he would have to act now.

Yet there was also Legolas who might be in need of him as well...

Glorfindel sighed. No, the choice was really not hard to make at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“No, oh no!” Legolas moaned and finally managed to push himself away from the Mirror. “No, no, it is not true, it cannot be...” He was trembling so hard that he did not even succeed in brushing the tears from his face. And it was no use anyway - he could not stop crying, just like he could not stop remembering what the Mirror had shown him.

“Legolas, calm yourself, it does not need to be true,” the Lady tried to soothe him, but when she reached out to touch him he took a step back, his eyes wide with panic, and then he turned and bolted, the only thought on his mind to flee from the Mirror which had shown him such horrors. He ran with no regard for the path beneath his feet, and only stopped when two arms caught him and wrapped themselves around him, pulling him against a strong chest.

“Glorfindel!” Legolas sobbed in relief, still blinded by his tears. “Please, do not let it be true, please, you must not allow it to happen! I do not want to die, not like that, oh, _not like that_!”

“Shh... I am here, Legolas, calm yourself. Whatever you saw, I will not allow it to happen.” Glorfindel tightened his embrace until he feared he might crush the youth. But Legolas only continued to sob, so completely shaken by what the Mirror had revealed to him that Glorfindel gave the white-clad figure he could see in the distance an angry look.

_What he has seen might not be what he thinks it is. Look after him, Glorfindel, calm him – and make him talk about it. If you allow him to keep silent, the visions that he has seen will fester in his heart, and might well destroy him in the end._

Glorfindel nodded slowly. He was not happy with the situation, but now was not the time for a discussion with the Lady, especially since he could feel that for some reason, she wanted the two of them to work it out between themselves. As much as it might annoy him, the Lady did nothing without reason, and she was right about one thing: Legolas needed all of his attention now, and everything else would have to wait.

“Come, let us return to our _talan_, there we can talk about what happened,” he said gently and pressed a kiss to Legolas’ brow, noting with concern how pale and cold his skin was.

“You do not know what I _saw_!” Legolas moaned in despair. “So much pain, such a horrible fate – but why? I do not understand why...”

Glorfindel kissed him again, tasting the salt on his tear-stained cheeks, and then gently forced him to start moving again, although he still kept him safely enfolded in his arms.

“It was my fault,” Legolas whimpered. “My fault... it should have been different, I saw it... All that pain, and it is _my_ fault!”

“Hush, Legolas, please!” Glorfindel tried to wipe Legolas’ tears away, but it was no use. The tears would not cease to flow, just like the prince would not be calmed.

For the first time in a very long time, Glorfindel felt helpless. He did not know what it was that Legolas had seen, yet it had left the prince horrified, trembling with shock and panic, and – worst of all – blaming himself for whatever gruesome fate he had been shown.

During the long walk back to their _talan_, he kept trying to calm the youth, yet it was to no avail. By the time the first _telain_ came into view, Legolas was almost worse than before, and Glorfindel had run out of words. Nothing he said or did would calm the prince, and seeing him in such despair hurt Glorfindel more than he would ever have imagined.

Glorfindel paused briefly, weighing his options, and came to a decision. He set off down the path again, but soon changed direction, pulling Legolas along a seldom used trail that led away from the _telain_ and deeper into a part of the Golden Wood that was not inhabited.

There was only one way to help Legolas, a path that he had hoped that he would never have to tread, or if so, at least not so soon. He was no healer; he was not Elrond who would have known how to heal such grief with dried herbs and calm words. His way was harsh... his way was the way of warriors who had to deal with pain and death on an almost daily basis. What he had done to Legolas thus far had been mild when compared to what he had done to other lovers, for the most part no more than playful teasing. Yet Legolas needed his help now, and this was the only way he knew.

Glorfindel was well aware that it could be a mistake to act now, without knowing what exactly Legolas had seen. But Legolas would not talk; he was too upset to let Glorfindel help him, and Glorfindel thought that he would rather make a mistake now and deal with the consequences later than be forced to continue to helplessly watch his prince suffer so.

“I will help you, Legolas,” he said calmly and stopped next to a tall tree. “I will take away your guilt and free you from your grief – but it comes with a price. I will allow you to rest thereafter, but tomorrow you will tell me what you saw, and you will leave nothing out.”

“I will do whatever you say, as long as you make it go away – _please_!” Legolas whispered. “I cannot bear what I saw, I _cannot_! Please, make me forget it...”

“I will, Legolas,” Glorfindel said almost sadly and moved to kiss Legolas one last time. Then he ordered Legolas to strip, and although his voice was calm, it was also firm and almost detached.

When Legolas had finished and stood before him naked and still trembling, Glorfindel removed his belt and drew it lovingly through his fingers, cherishing the silky smoothness of the worn leather. He would have preferred a whip for this, but he would have to make do with what he had. And his swordbelt was not a bad choice – the leather was thick and sturdy, and would make for heavy, bruising blows... and more pain than Legolas had ever known from his hands before.

“I want to hear you say it, Legolas,” he said heavily. “Trust me, I will find no pleasure in this, but I will not hold back. I have done this before for fellow warriors who needed to bear this trial to rid themselves of ghosts, to open again the wounds that had been left on their _fëar_ so that these wounds might finally heal...But it will hurt. So I want to hear it now, Legolas: is this what you want? Do you truly need the kind of release that pain will bring you?”

“Yes...” Legolas breathed. “Yes... punish me. I deserve it. You do not know how much I deserve it...”

Glorfindel sighed and nodded. “Turn around then and grip that branch above you,” he commanded. When Legolas, still shaking, silently obeyed, Glorfindel stepped behind him and gently ran his hands down his flanks. “Trust me in this,” he whispered. “I promise I will not harm you.”

Then he stepped back, and once again his voice was calm and imperious, as befit a captain. “Do not let go of the branch,” he warned.

“Yes, my Lord,” Legolas whispered weakly, and Glorfindel saw his muscles tense in preparation for what was to come.

“We will begin with yesterday’s offense,” Glorfindel decided. “I know that I said it would wait until tomorrow, but with the way things are now, I think we would both rather have it done with right now. Am I right?”

“Yes, my Lord,” Legolas repeated and bowed his head. Glorfindel nodded, although Legolas could not see it, and raised the hand that held the belt. “Three lashes,” he warned, and then he began. This was unlike anything that he had ever done to Legolas before, and it was obvious that the pain was worse than what Legolas had anticipated by the way he cried out and flinched away from the belt. Of course Legolas had tasted a belt before, that time out on the balcony during the feast in Celeborn’s honor, but there was a world of difference between the few welts raised on Legolas’ bottom with the light decorative belt he had worn then, and the beating inflicted by the heavy, thick leather he now swung with all his might. Yes, he had held back then to spare the pregnant youth – but this was a true punishment, executed with all of his strength and the will to hurt and to bruise, to give the youth the catharsis he so needed.

A broad stripe of red adorned Legolas’ back now, and when Glorfindel raised his arm again, another stripe and another cry followed. After the third lash, Legolas was sobbing again, but he did not let go of the branch, nor did he try to plead.

“Tell me why I had to punish you,” Glorfindel commanded sternly.

“Because... I acted against your orders, I... I did not wait for you to allow me m-my release,” Legolas whispered shamefully.

“And are you sorry now?”

“Yes, I am sorry! Please, forgive me, my Lord!” Legolas sobbed.

Glorfindel smiled and rested a hand against Legolas’ back, feeling the heat of the reddened skin. “I forgive you,” he said gently and pressed a kiss to Legolas’ temple.

“But there was another offense you committed tonight. Can you tell me what that was?”

“I – I left our _talan_ without telling you, my Lord?” Legolas asked, his voice trembling with uncertainty and, still, the pain.

“Yes. I know why you did it, but still it does not change the fact that I was worried when I woke and found you gone.”

“Forgive me, my Lord – I am sorry!” Legolas whispered, and Glorfindel pulled his hand away from his skin.

“Five lashes for leaving without telling me,” he declared. Again he raised his arm, and again the belt fell heavily onto the prince’s smooth skin. Glorfindel could feel how Legolas struggled to be brave, to contain his cries, but it was too much pain for one so young, so inexperienced – and Glorfindel was glad of every single cry and tear, although they pained him as well. But Legolas needed to let go this way, or else the pain he bore might never leave him.

After the fifth stroke, Glorfindel breathed deeply and once again rested his hand against the punished skin. Where the strokes criss-crossed, the red was even darker and Glorfindel knew that the skin there would bruise heavily.

“You are forgiven,” he whispered into Legolas’ ear. “You are very brave... Can you take more?”

“Y-yes,” Legolas whimpered, and Glorfindel pressed another kiss to his temple. “So very brave, Legolas...” he murmured, then stepped back once again with a sigh. “Then tell me for what offense you deserve this punishment.”

“The visions...” Legolas wept softly. “I saw... it was my fault. It was my fault back then! I never knew – all this time and I never knew! All this time, and it was _I_ who brought this on myself! It was all my fault...”

“Hush, Legolas... you have judged yourself, but it is for _me_ to punish you!” Glorfindel hesitated. He still did not know what crime Legolas thought he had committed, but from his reaction it was obvious that he thought it an offense most horrible and grievous.

And he had no other choice than to make the punishment just as horrible, if he wanted Legolas to consider his crime paid for and to forgive himself. If he held back now, if he tried to deal him less than what Legolas himself thought he deserved, then Legolas would continue to carry his guilt and his doubts. No, he had no other alternative...

“Twenty lashes,” he said softly, and Legolas sobbed in weary acceptance. Glorfindel wondered uneasily if the youth would be able to bear it – twenty lashes delivered with force, with this most cruel belt, was a harsh verdict. And even though his belt was no whip, he would not temper his blows as the pain was the only way he saw to make Legolas let go of his guilt.

He brushed away a strand of hair that clung to Legolas’ shoulder, then raised the belt yet again. With blow after blow, new cries were forced from Legolas’ throat until his voice was hoarse and he seemed to almost choke from the force of his sobs. Where several blows had struck the same patch of skin, some of the welts had been opened by the edge of the belt and now bled little crimson droplets.

At the sight of this, Glorfindel almost stopped. He had never made Legolas bleed before. This was a threshold he had crossed with only a few warriors, and none of them had been an inexperienced, frightened child. At that moment, Glorfindel hated the Valar for driving them to this, for forcing him to give such pain to innocent Legolas, who had only ever wanted to please.

Yet even these misgivings could not stop him. He could feel that it still was not enough, that he had not yet managed to drive Legolas over that threshold which would enable him to forgive himself, and so he continued.

Blow followed blow, raising more welts, bruising more of the once unblemished skin, and the bite of his belt soon drew more blood. Once, at the fourteenth blow, Legolas almost gave in to the pain and loosened his grip, but at the last moment he clenched his fingers even more tightly around the branch that held him up and continued to bear his trial. Glorfindel thought that he had never been more proud, nor had he ever felt such sorrow before.

It seemed like this torment would never end, but eventually the twentieth blow came, and then there was a moment of silence where they both sought to catch their breath. Then, with a thin whimper, Legolas let go of the branch and fell. It seemed to him like he was slipping into unconsciousness, and he welcomed it, but before he was fully gone Glorfindel’s strong arms caught him and gently cradled him against his chest.

“That was well done, my prince,” Glorfindel whispered tenderly. “You are indeed brave, with the true heart of a warrior. You have borne your punishment more nobly than many Lords I have known. Yes, I forgive you, Legolas. You have paid for any crime that you might have committed with your blood and your pain, and you have proved yourself worthy of being mine. Now rest, _pen vell_, and I will care for you.”

“Thank you,” Legolas breathed, overcome with a powerful emotion that he could not name. He only knew that Glorfindel had never shone brighter in his eyes. “Thank you, my Lord, thank you,” he repeated, and then he sighed and his head rolled against Glorfindel’s shoulder as he surrendered himself to the healing oblivion of sleep.

\--------------------  
_talan_ (pl. _telain_) – flet  
_pen vell_ \- dear one  
\---------------------

  
**36**

Carefully, Glorfindel wrapped the discarded robe around Legolas and carried him back to their _talan_. The youth remained unconscious until Glorfindel laid him down onto the bed, but then he whimpered softly and opened his eyes.

“Hush, Legolas,” Glorfindel said gently and stroked his hair. Then he poured some wine into a cup and held it to Legolas’ lips. “Drink, _pen vell_. It will grant you untroubled sleep. You deserve some rest now...”

Legolas sighed softly and obediently swallowed the wine. Then he lay back and allowed Glorfindel to gently pull the robe away from him, deeply asleep even before the Lord had finished applying a healing salve to the worst of the welts. Glorfindel sat by his side for a while, keeping watch to make sure that indeed no dark dreams were plaguing him, but eventually he undressed as well and joined Legolas in bed.

The first one to wake the next morning was neither Legolas nor Glorfindel, but Gîlríon. Surprised that neither of his parents was there to help him wash and dress, he climbed out of his bed and padded into his parents’ room. He frowned when he found both of them still asleep, although it was already light outside and a servant had just left breakfast on a table, as well as warm water for washing.

“Wake _up_, _atto_! Breakfast is here!” he commanded and climbed up onto the bed, sitting down on Glorfindel’s chest. “I am hungry! And I want to go outside!”

Glorfindel groaned when his eyes cleared and focused on his son. “Gîl... let me breathe! Valar, even an orc would wake me more gently...”

“Get _up_, _atto_! And _ada_, too!” Gîlríon repeated impatiently, pouting when his father did not react immediately. Instead, Glorfindel stretched, giving Legolas, who was still deeply asleep, an almost envious look before he finally pulled his son off his chest and sat up.

“Let your _ada_ sleep, he is very tired,” Glorfindel said, and Gîlríon sighed deeply but abandoned his father to curl up against Legolas’ chest.

“Will you make breakfast for me, _atto_?” he asked, although his voice was quiet now so he would not wake Legolas. “And will we go see the horses? I want to ride on _ada_’s horse!”

“Yes, I will prepare your breakfast, and yes, you may ride later on,” Glorfindel sighed patiently and then got up, searching through the clothes they had brought for a simple tunic and leggings that would survive a day of playing with their son.

Once he had dressed, he piled cut fruits on a plate, together with some slices of bread and a pale, mild cheese Legolas favored. Then he spooned some honey over a small bowl of oatmeal, but gave Gîlríon a warning look before he handed it to him. “If you want to eat here, you will be careful. If you spill the honey onto our bed, there will be no riding today!”

“Yes, _atto_,” Gîlríon sighed and took hold of the bowl with exaggerated carefulness.

Glorfindel returned to the table to get cups. One he filled with warmed milk to which he added some honey before giving it to their son, the other two cups he put down next to the plate on the nightstand, together with a pot of steaming mint tea.

“Wake up, sweet one,” he then breathed into Legolas’ ear, stroking his cheek to call him back from Lórien’s realm of dreams.

Legolas sighed and stretched, but then he froze, his eyes suddenly clearing when an unexpected pain reminded him of what had passed during the night. Only the presence of his son kept him from groaning as his movement stretched muscles beneath bruised and welt-covered skin.

“Still tired?” Glorfindel said knowingly. “I am still feeling tired as well. Perhaps we should rest today...”

“But you _promised_, _atto_!” Gîlrion exclaimed, and Glorfindel was quick to reassure him before the tell-tale gleam in his eyes became tears.

“I know, Gîl – Fairion and Laindir will go with you. You like them, do you not? I am certain that they would love to play with you today.”

Gîlríon nodded, already smiling again. “Yes, I really like them!” he agreed and then proceeded to hastily shovel the porridge into his mouth.

“Stay in bed, Legolas,” Glorfindel murmured and pressed a kiss to the prince’s temple before he left their talan for a moment, telling a servant to summon the two guards to their rooms.

When he returned, he found Legolas sitting up carefully with his back against the headboard, the sheet pulled up high to hide his nude body so that Gîlríon would not see the bruises by accident. But their child was still distracted by the honeyed milk he was drinking down as quickly as possible, and before he had time to snuggle up to his _ada_ again, Glorfindel lifted him from the bed and proceeded to help him wash and dress. Every now and then, Gîlríon would stop and give Legolas a questioning look, but although he realized that something was not quite right, he also understood that they did not want to involve him. Soon, he stopped worrying alltogether – his _atto_ would take care of his _ada_ and make everything right again. His parents _always_ made everything right for him, and his _atto_ would know how to make his _ada_ smile again.

A short while later, after a happily chattering Gîlríon had been taken away by the hastily summoned guards, Glorfindel joined Legolas on the bed once more, handing him a cup which he had just filled with tea and placing the plate between them.

“Thank you – I do not think I would make a good playmate for him today,” Legolas said with a slight grimace.

“Yes, I think you should rest today. Although a hot bath will help with the soreness.” Glorfindel kissed Legolas tenderly, then smiled. “Eat, and drink your tea, and then we will go to the baths... and _then_ we will talk.”

Legolas paled and lowered his eyes, but still he sipped obediently at his tea.

An hour later, after Legolas had dressed gingerly in a tunic of thin, sleek silk which he hoped would not aggravate his welts, they headed towards the bathing area of Lothlórien.

There were very few in the city of Caras Galadhon who could enjoy a hot bath in their own rooms, as each bucket of water had to be carried up into the trees before it could be heated and emptied into a tub. Consequently, a hot bath was work for several servants, and this luxury was something usually only accorded to the Lord and Lady, or royal guests. Glorfindel as well was afforded this luxury, yet he did not make use of it overly much as he knew the amount of work it meant.

Most of Lothlórien’s inhabitants used one of the public bathhouses or one of the pools and ponds fed by a small arm of the Celebrant. Yet there was one other pool, situated close to Galadriel’s private gardens, which was fed by a source deep inside the earth. Its water was hot and steaming, imbued with healing powers by the essences of the ancient stones and crystals it had rushed past on its way to the surface.

This pool was usually only used by the Lady of Light and her husband, yet it stood open for those who had need of the healing its waters could bring. And the healing powers of this hallowed spring were just what Legolas needed now; healing – and the privacy of the place so that he could finally unburden his heart.

They undressed and left their clothes on a large stone that stood close to the edge of the pool. Legolas was still not entirely comfortable with being naked in a place where they might be observed by accident, and so he was the first to step into the hot spring.

When he slid deeper into the water, he flinched. The heat made his welts sting and he hissed in pain. Yet only a moment later an almost blissful expression appeared on his face as he relaxed, the soreness of his bruised back vanishing when the magic of the sulphurous water worked its magic.

"I knew that would feel good," Glorfindel said with a smile. He followed Legolas into the water with a contented sigh, then sat down on what appeared to be a stone seat, immersed in the water. “Come here, sit on my lap – I want to hold you when you tell me what you saw yesterday.”

Legolas obeyed shakily, lowering his eyes as soon as he had sat down on Glorfindel’s lap.

“Do not be afraid, Legolas. I am not here to judge you. Remember how you suffered yesterday in payment? You are already forgiven, but now you have to keep the promise that you gave me.”

Again he sought Legolas’ lips, brushing them with his own mouth until they opened of their own accord. Glorfindel smiled into the kiss when Legolas made a soft sound of pleasure somewhere deep in his throat. The youth melted against his body, Glorfindel’s tongue slipping into his mouth to slide teasingly against his own until all Legolas could taste, all he could breathe was Glorfindel. When they finally parted again, Legolas licked dreamily over his moist lips, flushed from the hot water and excitement, and also because he could not hide how much he loved his lord’s taste.

Glorfindel gave him another tender smile. “Trust me,” he encouraged him gently. “Tell me what you saw.”

Legolas sighed again and rested his head on Glorfindel’s shoulder, so that he would not be forced to look into his eyes.

“I first saw my father, and my lady mother. I could not remember what she looked like, but now I know that she was beautiful. It is true what they say, I have inherited her hair – it is the same color.” Legolas sighed against Glorfindel’s damp skin, then continued. “I saw their wedding, saw them exchange their vows beneath the stars... They were very happy. I have never seen my _adar_ look so happy before. It was a good vision, sad because I never got the chance to know my _naneth_, but I am glad to know what she looked like, and that they were so happy...”

“But then the vision changed, my lord. And – I saw your home, Gondolin. _Beautiful_... it was so beautiful! I had not known that such splendour existed! It was so much more beautiful than our dark forest, and even Imladris and Lórien pale after you have seen the white walls and minarets of the hidden city. But then it was attacked, and I saw - _you_. I saw you, my lord, fighting the balrog!” Legolas fell silent and took a shuddering breath. Glorfindel was silent as well, but embraced him tightly as if to protect him from the demon whose horror no elf should have to witness.

“And then – then it was Gondolin no longer, but a cave. You were gone, my lord, but I still saw a balrog... and I saw myself in the cave with the demon. There were others – I fear they were children! And something horrible had happened, something that made my heart ache with grief!” Legolas sobbed softly when he finally allowed himself to voice his fears. “Children, my lord – what if it was another son? What if I one day put one of our children in such danger, by bringing them near a balrog?”

“Calm yourself, Legolas.” Glorfindel gave Legolas a look that, while troubled, was not as anxious as Legolas would have expected. “I do not think that it is a future child that you have seen. Even if it is yet unborn, I am certain that you would have recognized a fëa created by our joining. No, it is a dreadful vision indeed, but you do not need to fear for Gîl or a sibling.” Instead, Glorfindel feared for Legolas, but now was not the time to voice that thought, not when he wanted Legolas calm enough to continue his recounting.

Legolas swallowed and nodded. “That vision...” He shook his head. “As terrible as it was, now that I have _seen_ it, my lord...” He shivered, then reached for Glorfindel’s hand, raising it to his lips so he could kiss it worshipfully. “Glorfindel the Beloved,” he whispered, overcome by the vision of the warrior who had faced the demon and given his life, so that his lord’s family might escape to safety. “I now understand why they call you this. I saw you face the balrog, lord, I saw you step into his path with only your gilded armor to save you from his fire. I saw you raise your sword, saw you give your own life without any fear, so that your lord’s heir might live! I never understood before – but now I know what valor truly means, and that the songs which extoll your knightly virtues do not do justice to your heroic deed! You are indeed beloved of your people, and of the Valar as well.”

Glorfindel was silent. For once he did not know what to say. “Thank you, Legolas,” he finally whispered and leaned down to press a tender kiss to Legolas’ brow, while the youth was still holding his hand cradled against his cheek. “It means a lot to me to hear you say this, truly... For as much as the minstrels like to play the Lay of the Fall of Gondolin, they have never yet seen a balrog, nor do they know the terror of being face to face with a demon of Morgoth...”

“Nor do they know what it feels like to see the most beautiful city of Middle-earth being ravaged by the Dark Lord’s creatures,” Legolas whispered sadly, his eyes filling with tears.

“Yes,” Glorfindel agreed and brushed his lips against Legolas’ cheeks. “Weep if you want – your tears honor you, sweet one. Compassion is a virtue that many have lost in this dark time. But do not grieve too deeply for the lost wonders of the Hidden City. Gondolin was built in the image of fair Tirion on Túna, the city we left behind when we crossed the Helcaraxë. I promise, _pen vell_, one day I shall return to Aman with you and our son, and together we shall walk the gem-covered shore of Taniquetil. Yes... and I shall show you all the wonders of the Blessed Realm.”

Legolas smiled, and with a soft sigh, surrendered to Glorfindel’s embrace once more. He wished he could simply stay like this, feeling warm and safe, but he had not yet finished recounting what the Mirror had shown. “The next vision...” Ai, it was so hard to talk of it! But talk of it he must – he had promised he would! “It was you again, my lord, together with me in Mirkwood, at the lake. You kissed me...”

“You saw the past then?” Glorfindel asked, and Legolas slowly shook his head.

“Nay, my lord, I... I saw you seduce me. I did not resist you, and you did not... hurt me. You made love to me beneath the apple tree, so sweetly and gently...” Tears began to run down his face as he remembered the tenderness of the act. “And then I was pregnant, sitting at Lord Elrond's table next to you, with Celeborn and Haldir there as well, and – and my brother, Galuron. You... you were so proud, my lord, so happy, so affectionate. Elrond and Galuron were signing some parchment, and there were silver rings on our fingers!” He sobbed the last words, unable to continue for a moment when the pain and bitterness of the memory took away his breath.

Glorfindel closed his eyes, his expression pained. “Go on, _pen vell_... were there more visions?” he asked hoarsely, although the last thing he wanted to hear right now was another vision like the one Legolas had just recalled.

“I saw a group of elves from Mirkwood. They were attacked by orcs, and there were just too many... They lost, and one of the warriors, I saw how they – _raped_ him!” Legolas moaned in terror, but still he forced himself to continue. “Then – I think I saw myself, back in Mirkwood, sleeping in a room in the royal wing. I was older, but – this should please you, my lord – I was pregnant again.” He tried to smile. “Gîl shall have a little brother or sister one day, and my father will allow me back. That at least is good news, is it not?”

Glorfindel nodded but did not speak, and Legolas continued, eager to be finished.

“The last vision the Mirror gave me was once again a pregnant elf, with fair hair – just like that of my _naneth_. But he was bound to his bed, and his _face_ – he had clawed his own face with gouges so deep that his features were no longer recognizable! And his belly – ai! That was no child he was bearing, no _edhel_! There were sores on his belly, dark lines as if there was poison flowing through his very veins, and something inside him was moving – _moving_!”

He trembled. There were no words to convey the horror he had felt, that sense of _evil_. “My _adar_ was there, and a healer... I could not understand them, but I know what they said. _Monster_ they said, _cursed_, _tainted_, and then – the healer begged _ada_ for mercy for the elf, for _death_, and...” He sobbed. “They killed him! My _ada_ cried, and then I saw my _naneth_ again, stepping forward until she fell and fell, and her hair fluttered in the wind – _her hair was the same color as mine_!”

Legolas moaned in horror and sagged against Glorfindel, clutching at his shoulders. When the lord’s arms wrapped themselves around him, to embrace him tightly, they rubbed over the welts on his back and made him cry out. But it was only that pain that kept him from sinking into the comforting darkness that had suddenly loomed in front of his eyes.

\------------------------  
pen vell - dear one  
atto - affectionate form of "father" [Quenya]  
ada - affectionate form of "father" [Sindarin]  
edhil - elf  
adar – father  
naneth – mother  
\-------------------------

  
**37**

Glorfindel held Legolas tightly, wordlessly trying to comfort him. Only when Legolas had calmed enough so that he once more seemed able to listen to Glorfindel did the warrior speak again.

"You think that it is you, do you not? That fair-haired elf that dies, that is condemned to death by the healer?” Glorfindel sighed and gently pressed his lips to Legolas’ temple. “Hush, be calm... There is no reason to believe that. I told you that you cannot trust the Mirror, and I am certain that there is another meaning to this."

Legolas tried his best to hide the panic that was welling up in him at the mere thought of that vision, but despite his efforts he was still trembling when he forced himself to meet Glorfindel’s eyes. "But the elf I saw... He was clearly of the Royal family, and there is no other elf with this exact same color of hair. I am the only one who inherited my mother’s coloring!"

"Still, it might be a future child of one of your brothers, or a cousin you do not yet know about,” Glorfindel reasoned. “There are many possibilities, Legolas. Do not despair! This is exactly why I have never dared to look into the Mirror myself, for I know how easy it is to come to the wrong conclusion. Yet now that we know of it - even if it is indeed yourself you have seen - we are warned.”

Glorfindel fell silent for a moment, then raised a hand to gently cup Legolas’ cheek. His next words were slow and grave, yet filled with tender emotion. “And did I not promise to protect you?” he whispered, smiling sadly when he thought about how much pain he himself had brought this youth. “I will swear you an oath, Legolas. By the grace of the Valar, I swear that I will protect you. No harm shall come to you while you yet remain in Middle-earth; I will protect you and our children with my own life, until the day that we finally sail West to find peace in the Blessed Realm."

"No!" Legolas exclaimed, taken aback. "No, my Lord, do not swear such an oath... Think of what consequences it might bring! Think of Fëanor’s sons, and what pain an oath brought them!"

“Forgive me,” Glorfindel said, startled by the sudden protest. “I forget how you Sindar view such things. Yet even we Noldor do not lightly swear an oath like that. I know that I have done many things which will not find the Valar’s blessing, and I am sorry for it. But I will keep this promise that I have given you, no matter the cost."

Legolas still looked frightened, but at least he was no longer trembling in Glorfindel’s arms like the leaf he had been named for. And while Glorfindel knew that they were still not done talking about the horrifying last vision, he decided to spare Legolas the anguish it would undoubtably cause for the moment. Instead he chose another one of the visions - a vision that horrified Glorfindel as well, yet he hoped that what he had to say would heal the wound this particular sight must have left on Legolas’ heart.

"When you told me last night that it was all your fault, Legolas, which vision did you mean?" he asked, dreading the answer although he already knew what it must be. Yet he could not take back what he had done; the welts were there on Legolas’ back no matter what he now heard.

Legolas lowered his head, looking down at the small ripples their movements caused. "That first time we met... the Mirror showed me what I could have had," he said tonelessly. "It was all like it had been... only I did not struggle, and you did not... hurt me then. It showed me that I had no right to blame you, because all that pain was my own fault. If I had simply submitted to you there, you would not have hurt me, nor would I have become your... possession. There would have been peace, without my brother suffering because of my mistakes..."

"Ai, _pen vell_," Glorfindel whispered, anguished. "What have I done to you that you would blame yourself for this? Do you not see what it is that you are doing? You say that it is your fault that you were raped, because you dared to fight your attacker! Do you not see that it is I who was at fault? I wanted you, yes, but I should never have forced you! I should have seduced you with sweet words, like the way you have seen it. I should have given you nothing but pleasure that day!"

Glorfindel bowed his head and closed his eyes.

Now they had come to it - the moment that he should have known was waiting for him all along. This was what he had done to Legolas; this was how deeply he had wounded his _fëa_.

Yet this moment was nothing like what he had imagined. It was not the reaction that he had secretly feared ever since he heard Legolas admit the truth of his violation to his brother. Legolas did not hate him, or curse him for what he had done; he did not even want to run away from him.

Instead, what Glorfindel was reaping now was far worse than what he had feared. He was nearly trembling with impotent rage, silently cursing the Valar who were seeking to punish him for his misdeeds in this most cruel way - not by hurting him, not by taking Legolas away, but by making Legolas suffer.

Rather than punish _him_, the Valar hurt _Legolas_, the innocent youth who had never done wrong in his life, who had only ever wanted to please, so that somebody would finally show him love.

Glorfindel felt as if his heart were breaking. To hear Legolas blame himself for being violated, for being dishonored and humiliated and hurt, when it was he, Glorfindel, who was the monster who had forced the youth and laughed at his pain...

Never in his life had Glorfindel felt such shame.

"Curse the Valar for making you believe such a horrible lie," he said hoarsely. "And curse them for allowing me to return to Middle-earth! Ai, I should have remained in Mandos’ cold halls until the world is made anew!"

"Nay, my lord! Do not say such horrible things! Do not curse the Valar!" Legolas cried, tears glistening on his dark lashes. " They sent you back to do great deeds, and to bring us hope! And you have done so - your presence here has saved countless lives and inspired others."

"Yet my _fëa_ has become a wretched thing, tainted with darkness," Glorfindel whispered in shame. He shivered and drew Legolas closer for a moment, enfolding him tightly in his arms. Then he carefully pushed him off his lap and towards the rim of the pool. He wanted nothing more than to hold Legolas close, but the things he needed to tell him were best told with at least _some_ distance between them, lest Glorfindel succumb to the allure of the slender, wet body, and the sweet oblivion it offered.

He silently waited while Legolas climbed out of the pool, and then followed him. There was a stack of towels by the side of the pool that had been left by a servant, and only when they had both dried themselves did he continue to speak, his voice heavy with guilt.

"Has the Lady not told you that the Mirror shows only that which was, or is, or will be? It does not show _what should have been_ – at least it does not do so normally. That is not in the Lady’s power, nor was it in the power of Melian, who once blessed these woods with her presence in an Age long gone. No, you have been given that vision for a reason, Legolas, and that reason is me. I have never dared to look into the Mirror... and I think that the Valar have finally grown impatient with how I have misused their gift of rebirth.

“That vision was a message for _me_. The Lady was right, I do indeed believe that both you and Gîl were a reward for my unwavering loyalty to the line of Eärendil. Yet these mortal shores have corrupted me. I was reborn as one without sin, without blemish, and sent to Middle-earth to carry the light of the Blessed Realm to this land. Yet instead of fighting the darkness, of counselling my lord to keep searching for peaceful solutions to the problems between our realms, I let myself be overcome by rage and pain. I bear a heavy guilt, Legolas. I have wronged the Valar, I have wronged my friends... and what pains me most is that I have wronged you.”

Glorfindel fell silent, and then – never once breaking contact with Legolas’ eyes – he fell to his knees in front of him.

"I _raped_ you. What I did was monstrous, and I cannot possibly apologize for it, yet I want you to know that I am truly sorry. How can I ever atone for what I did, for the shame and the dishonor I brought on you? Ai, please forgive me, Legolas...” Glorfindel’s voice broke and he bowed his head, still kneeling in front of the youth.  
“No, my Lord – do not kneel!” Legolas said shakily. He raised a trembling hand to touch Gorfindel’s wet locks, feeling insecure as never before. To see the noble head bowed, the proud Elda kneeling before him – this was not right, this was not how it should be! How was he supposed to react to this? What was he supposed to say?

“You should not kneel before me,” he repeated helplessly. “Please!” He remembered Glorfindel in the vision, the glorious warrior who had fearlessly stood against the balrog – how could the reborn hero who was beloved by both the Valar and elves alike humble himself, and in front of _him_, Legolas? “I am _nothing_!” he exclaimed, not noticing the pained look that flitted across Glorfindel’s face.

“You did not... It was not...” he then went on, flushed and miserable with shame at the memory. “If it had been rape, I would have died from it – but I did not. It... it is true, you hurt me, but.. it was not _that_!”

“But it was, Legolas,” Glorfindel said softly. “And it _would_ have killed you – I will never forget the look in your eyes. I realized then what I had become... that in truth I was no better than a creature of the Dark Lord, so lost in the darkness of my pain and rage that I would not only violate an innocent, but _take pleasure_ from that most despicable act - even though it would mean his death!

"Do not try to excuse my actions, Legolas. It was rape, even if I managed to keep you from Mandos. I laughed at you for enjoying it, but you had never known another’s touch until that day! How could you not have felt pleasure when I manipulated your body? The fault is all mine, as is the shame...”

“No!” Legolas whispered, “Please! Do not say that... You are all that I have!” He fell to his knees as well, throwing himself against Glorfindel’s chest as the sobs finally broke out of him, and with them all the fear he had so long tried to suppress. “Please, my Lord!” he begged desperately, “Just promise me that you will not send me away, that is all that I wish for! Just allow me to stay with you and Gîl; there is nothing more that I could ask!”

“Hush, Legolas, do not cry! I have hurt you so much already, I cannot bear to see you in pain over this!” Glorfindel helplessly tried to wipe the tears from Legolas’ face, finally kissing him everywhere he could reach, his cheeks, his eyes, his mouth, to stop those heartbreaking sobs. “I promise, Legolas, I swear it by the grace of the Valar, I will never send you away! I will never try to part you from our children! I... You know who I am, you know _how_ I am. I will not change, I cannot promise you that, but I _can_ promise that what I did by that lake, and again when I found you with Elrond – that _that_ will never happen again! I swear it, Legolas, I swear it to you and the Valar, it will never again be _rape_ between us!”

“That is all that I ever wanted!” Legolas choked out against Glorfindel’s neck, clinging to him as if he still feared his lord would send him away. “Let me stay with you... Punish me, hurt me if you must, but please, please, _love me_!”

\--------------------------  
_pen vell_ \- dear one  
_fëa_ \- soul  
\---------------------------

  
**38**

"Legolas..." Glorfindel wanted to weep at this piteous, heartbroken plea. "You do not deserve this; you do not deserve any of this!" he whispered, feeling as though he would choke on the anguish he was feeling. He was seeing so clearly now... He was seeing what he had done, and all the consequences of his foul deed.

Legolas had been unloved and unwanted for all of his life. How lonely he must have been, and how sad his childhood without the love of his parents and brothers - most likely without even friends! Even before Glorfindel, his fëa would have been nearly wounded beyond repair by the long years of neglect.

Legolas had been starved for love, hungering for the smallest sign of affection. It would have been so easy - all it would have taken was a kind word, just the smallest amount of praise, of affection, and Legolas would have done _anything_ to please him.

_I am nothing!_ Legolas' words came back to haunt him. Yes... even back then, Legolas had already abandoned all belief in himself, simply existing from day to day, faced with the unwavering knowledge that he did not mean anything to anyone - that he was unwanted at his father's court, or in his father's life.

And then _he_ had come, Glorfindel, giving the child hope for perhaps the first time in his life that someone could actually want him, be interested in him - only to rip that hope away in the most cruel fashion.

Glorfindel almost moaned when he finally admitted to himself the full scope of what he had done. It would have been a horrible crime no matter the victim, yet to know that he had abused someone whose fëa had already been so damaged by years of neglect... He shivered when he remembered all the abuses that he had heaped on the youth - and that he had brought the taint of slavery to Imladris, when his purpose had been to fight the growing darkness! How was it that he had never realized that slowly, he had become no better than the evil that he had once sworn to fight?

Glorfindel felt overcome with shame at how far he had fallen. What _had_ he done? Was there even a way to undo the damage he had caused?

"I have sworn you an oath, Legolas! I will not ever send you away, I swear it!" Glorfindel repeated, tightening his arms around the heartbroken youth. "Nor will I allow anyone else to hurt you, neither by their hands nor by their words. Do you... do you not know how very dear you are to me?" he whispered against Legolas' hair. "You are so beautiful, and your sweetness, your gentleness... Ai, you were not made for these cruel mortal shores! Would that I could have met you in Aman, a carefree, happy child of the forest that I could have wooed, that I could have made happy..."

"No," Legolas moaned. "Please, do not! I dare not indulge these dreams! I know what I am, and truly, I would not have deserved that... But I love our Gîl so! Just do not let them hurt him because of me! I could not bear that!"

"Hush, Legolas. I promise! Nobody will be allowed to hurt him," Glorfindel whispered, sighing softly against Legolas' hair.

What _had_ he been thinking? Had he truly been so callous, so self-serving that he had not realized what he was doing? Or was it that he simply had not cared?

Now the damage was done, and Glorfindel trembled when he realized that just maybe, it could never be reversed. Nor would he ever know if what Legolas was feeling was true affection, or something twisted by his abuse - a feeling fabricated by his mind so that he could survive being the whore of his father's enemy.

And truly, what _could_ he do? He had had Legolas trained in swordsmanship, had taught him languages, literature, and history... yet still, Legolas thought that he was _nothing_!

But then, Glorfindel reminded himself, how _could_ Legolas be confident in his worth when the truth was that he held no position of honor or respect - when even the stable boys felt themselves above him?

Glorfindel had made certain that the hateful word he himself had once used for Legolas - _whore_ \- was no longer used, at least not in his presence. Yet Glorfindel could not change what people thought about Legolas, though perhaps in time he could change how Legolas felt about himself.

How often had he reassured Legolas, told him that he would protect him, told him that he was a prince in truth? Yet when had he ever made good on those promises?

No, Glorfindel had to admit that he had never truly tried to make those promises a reality. If he wanted Legolas to have a place in society that was not that of an outcast, then he, Glorfindel, would have to give him that place. Vague threats would never give Legolas the respect he deserved, not as long as Glorfindel himself was seen to treat Legolas as nothing more than a whore to pleasure him. Even Legolas' presence at feasts, royally arrayed, could be taken – not as an honor - but as Glorfindel flaunting his mastery over a subjugated prince of the enemy. For how else should their relationship be perceived, given that he had not honored Legolas with a betrothal, much less the vows of eternal binding?

Glorfindel wearily closed his eyes. He had fallen into the Valar's trap - or maybe it had been his own trap all along. He now loved that which he had once hated, which he had hurt and shamed and nearly destroyed. How the Valar must laugh at him!

“Legolas...”

Glorfindel sighed, but then shook his head. It was too late for apologies – what Legolas needed were reassurances. And it would need to be more than just a promise this time...

_Love me!_ he could again hear the youth pleading. And certainly that was not asking too much, was it, after Legolas had already given him a son? Yet still, Glorfindel found himself unable to speak the words. He told himself that he simply did not want to hurt Legolas even more by lying to him, yet at the same time he could not entirely ignore the nagging thought that maybe, just _maybe_, he was once again afraid to acknowledge something that he should have realized long ago. For during these many months of being with Legolas, he had never once wanted another; indeed, he was still almost mad with desire for him.

Glorfindel frowned. No, this was no time for thought – it was action which Legolas needed. He gently cupped his prince's cheek, forcing the still trembling youth to meet his eyes.

“Let me love you!" he whispered, breathing the tender words over Legolas' face like a charm, or prayer. "Let me love you..."

Legolas closed his eyes, sighing in acquiscence when Glorfindel gently pushed him back, so that he came to sit on the ground with the softness of cool moss against his legs, his thighs.

"Shh, careful now," Glorfindel cautioned, and without ceasing to breathe sweet little kisses all over his face, helped Legolas to lean back so that his elbows carried his weight, keeping his bruised back off the ground.

"Let me love you - let me care for you!" he whispered again before he took Legolas' lips in a slow kiss, aiming for seduction rather than domination. It was an unhurried kiss, drawn out for far longer than Glorfindel would have normally allowed. But this was not about quick satisfaction of his body’s needs, this was about showing Legolas affection – and if he was honest with himself, Glorfindel found this slow little kiss far more enjoyable than many passionate trysts with lovers past. Maybe it was the way that something so simple could render Legolas breathless, make him flush with pleasure. Maybe it was the soft sounds that he made, every sweet little sigh and gasp going straight to Glorfindel’s groin – or maybe it was that Legolas had become so very dear to him, finding a way into his heart despite the darkness of war and hate that had surrounded them.

“_Ai, Legolas velui vell nín_!” he sighed, a slow warmth spreading through his body when Legolas shivered at his words, tilting his head back in a silent offering so that Glorfindel could nuzzle his throat. Glorfindel licked the pale skin, tasting the salt of the hot spring and just the barest hint of the taste that was _Legolas_. He could feel the pulse fluttering against his tongue and smiled at the way the youth was reacting to him.

"Give yourself to me - let me care for you!" he whispered, and rewarded it with a kiss to a rosy nipple when Legolas sighed and closed his eyes, surrendering himself to his lord's touch. He laved the small, berry-red nub with his tongue until it was wet and erect and Legolas shivered each time he licked over it.

"I love how sensitive you still are," Glorfindel breathed against his chest before he closed his lips around the nipple, gently sucking on it while Legolas gasped and gripped Glorfindel's shoulder to steady himself.

"Do you like that?" Glorfindel asked, laughing softly at the way Legolas trembled when his breath moved over the glistening nub. "You liked to nurse our son, did you not? And I loved to watch you... You were so beautiful! I shall give you another child, Legolas, another child to suckle on those sweet, rosy buds..."

Glorfindel gently bit the nipple, tugging on it a little before he again took it into his mouth to suck on it, harder this time so that Legolas cried out with pleasure.

When Glorfindel finally let go, the little nub was swollen and red, inviting like a juicy berry, and Glorfindel found himself circling it with his fingertips, teasing, tormenting Legolas by repeatedly rubbing his calloused fingers over the sensitive skin. He pinched the nipple only to hear Legolas cry out again, tugging gently with his fingers while he remembered how sweet Legolas had looked with the babe at his chest, vulnerable and fragile and trusting, and above all _his_ \- his to possess, his to protect.

Glorfindel groaned and hungrily moved on to the other side of Legolas' chest, tormenting that nipple with his mouth and tongue with such vigor as though he were trying to draw out a last few drops of the sweetness that had once nourished their child, although Legolas' chest was flat now like that of any other male. But his nipples were just a little bit darker, a little bit larger than those of other males, and still they were so sensitive...

Glorfindel playfully bit the little nub, smiling when he heard Legolas gasp. "Would you like that, Legolas?" he teased gently. "Would you like to have another child suckling at your breast?" He moved one nipple into his mouth again, gently sucking as if to help Legolas remember.

"Ai!" Legolas moaned helplessly, almost gone with pleasure from the constant, teasing touch at this over-sensitized area. "You know I would, lord! Oh, please!" he gasped, and Glorfindel drew back with a smile.

"No pleading, Legolas, not today - I will care for you, I will love you like I promised."

Glorfindel moved his lips back to Legolas' chest, licking a slow, wet path down towards the small navel which he teased with his tongue, circling it several times until he flicked his tongue inside repeatedly, like a cat trying to lap milk from a bowl. Legolas squirmed a little, helpless in his arousal, and Glorfindel watched the muscles of his stomach constrict, pleased that where he had once been able to count ribs, he was now able to feel and see the musculature of a well-fed, active youth.

Then he moved further downward, ignoring the slender, swollen shaft that twitched when he moved past it. He pressed his lips to the silky skin of the pale thighs that parted willingly for him, and he gently encouraged them to spread further, only to deliver a playful bite to the sensitive skin of the inner thigh, chuckling when Legolas yelped and pulled his hand back from his shoulder to balance himself.

He drew a hand along the smooth skin in admiration. It was pale as freshly fallen snow, and it made Glorfindel want to brand him as his, like an animal. With a soft growl, Glorfindel gave into his impulse, sucking on a patch of skin - not hard enough to hurt, just enough for a reddish mark to form. When he looked up again, he saw that Legolas was trembling, weak with desire, and Glorfindel felt his own desire grow even stronger at the sight of the mark he had left. The redness looked almost obscene against the paleness of Legolas' thighs.

"I have never desired another the way that I desire you..." Glorfindel breathed, wondering how it was that Legolas could still look so innocent, so untouched, although Elbereth knew that there should be no innocence left at all, not after the uses he had put him to.

“You bewitch me...” He _was_ bewitched - and he found that he did not much care.

Legolas whimpered when his lord's hot breath ghosted over his erection, his fingers digging into the earth as he tried to control his need. Without a doubt he was trying to endure Glorfindel’s teasing, waiting for the moment when Glorfindel would end this torment and simply take him, the way he always did.

Glorfindel grinned and swooped down to sheathe Legolas’ length in his mouth, chuckling around the hot shaft when Legolas all but shrieked in shock.

"What – but – Ai! No!” Legolas gasped, so overcome that he could no longer hold himself up with his arms, gasping again when his bruised back came into sudden contact with the ground. “Ai! Do – do not – _my lord_!” he cried, his eyes wide open in near panic at the sight of the golden head bent over his lap.

“Why not?” Glorfindel said and smirked as he drew back for a moment. “You are mine – and I will have you in any way that I please. Now let me love you the way I want to...”

Legolas cried out when the hot mouth closed around him once more, and after that he could not manage another word. Instead, the sounds that left his lips were moans, whimpers, soft, piteous cries caused by a pleasure almost too keen to be borne.

And all the sounds only served to make Glorfindel take him deeper, draw on him even more voraciously. He was playing Legolas expertly, using all the skill in the arts of love that he had garnered over two lives, and it did not take long at all until Legolas was nearly delirious. His hands were twisted into Glorfindel’s locks – not daring to hold him in place, never that, instead trying desperately to anchor himself, for this pleasure - the heat, the wetness, the sensual sliding of a skilled tongue – was something that he had never known before.

Legolas could not hold out long in the face of such pleasure. All too soon, it became too much, and he cried out his pleasure in what was almost a wail, finding his completion in Glorfindel’s mouth who swallowed his sweetness with just as much voracity.

Legolas was still weak-limbed and trembling as if in a fever when Glorfindel finally drew back, only to then tenderly draw the youth into his arms when he joined him on the moss-covered ground.

“Shhh, no words, Legolas,” Glorfindel hushed with a smile, before Legolas could even think of speaking. He was still hard himself, but for once, he found himself strangely moved to ignore his arousal, and to instead spend this moment simply enjoying the feeling of the sweaty, exhausted body in his arms

Not for long, he told himself, for Glorfindel had never been one to deny himself, yet for this short moment he wanted to glory in the absolute certainty that Legolas was his, and that in return, he might just be Legolas’.

\--------------------------  
_Ai, Legolas velui vell nín_ \- Ah, my sweet, dear Legolas  
\--------------------------

  
**39**

Glorfindel trailed a finger along Legolas' trembling flank and smiled when the youth sighed and moved deeper into his embrace.

Such tenderness Legolas woke in him, such a desire to protect, to possess - to _love_!

No, Glorfindel thought, with all of his many lovers, it had never been like _this_! Legolas was so much the epitome of all that had ever attracted him that it was almost eerie - young and inexperienced, untouched by any but him, beautiful, and eager to please. How could he resist such perfect, natural submissiveness?

Yet it was more than all this. Legolas, for lack of a better word, was _sweet_. He was like honey to Glorfindel's battered, weary fëa, sweet and balming, and despite his allure, still so very innocent.

Yes, despite all that had happened to him, Legolas was still unmarred by the pain of life, and this sweet optimism, this resilient hope, was something Glorfindel could not help but want to protect.

"_Ai, Legolas velui ammelui nín_," Glorfindel whispered and took Legolas' lips again in a tender kiss.

Legolas made a soft sound of contentment, and when their lips finally parted, he gave Glorfindel a shy smile. "Thank you," he breathed, still not quite able to believe what had happened. "Thank you, my lord!"

He did not dare to say more, for fear that he might somehow destroy this mood that had possessed Glorfindel, but there were still things he could do to show his appreciation - things that so far had never failed to please his lord.

With another shy smile to hide how insecure he still felt, he wound his arms around Glorfindel's neck and moved so that his thigh slid against his lord's erection. He flushed a little when he could feel just how hungry Glorfindel was for him, but at the same time, he could not help but feel pleased at the thought.

"Will you not have me, my lord?" he whispered, forcing himself to meet Glorfindel's eyes despite his embarrassment. "I want... I want to feel you inside me when you find your release." His cheeks were bright red, but he was still smiling at Glorfindel, meeting his eyes to show that he meant what he said.

"Ah, there is nothing I would like better," Glorfindel sighed. "But I fear that now is not the right time for that, not with your back still so bruised."

"My mouth then?" Legolas offered, then sighed when Glorfindel indulgently shook his head. "Please, my lord, I want to give you pleasure!" he insisted earnestly.

"You need not try and make it up to me. What I did was for you, to give _you_ pleasure - I demand nothing in return, not when I brought you here to enjoy the healing this place offers."

"Still," Glorfindel continued with a grin, "I would not mind it at all if you were to move _this_", he pulled one of Legolas' hands to his mouth to press a teasing kiss to it, "to _here_, and wrap those slender fingers around me to bring me to release in your hand. After all, you _want_ to pleasure me, and who am I to keep you from your heart's desire?"

"And this way I can at least taste of your sweetness," he sighed and then kissed the prince, whose long, graceful fingers were busy pleasuring him with such endearing tenderness and admiration.

This way, it did not take long at all until Glorfindel found his release with a muffled groan, his seed staining Legolas' fingers and spurting onto his belly.

Legolas was silent while Glorfindel shuddered with his pleasure and then stretched like a large, contented cat, but his fingers were curled in Glorfindel's hair and he tenderly stroked his nape.

"I brought you here to wash yourself, and now see - I got you dirty again," Glorfindel said with another of his rakish grins that kindled a strange, sweet glow deep inside Legolas.

The youth coyly lowered his head and raised his hand to his face, pretending to study the silvery essence that clung to it. "Ah, but you need not worry, my lord; I think this can easily be cleaned without stepping into the pool again," he said softly, his eyes filled with a warm, teasing light when he slowly lapped at the glistening wetness that stained his fingers.

Glorfindel held his breath. "Ai, you are _wicked_!" he breathed, staring at the exquisite sight in front of him with both admiration and hunger. "Bruises or no, if you keep this up, my sweet prince, you shall find youself on your back as soon as we enter our talan!"

"As long as you promise to be gentle," Legolas demurred, drawing a finger through the wet puddle on his belly for another teasing taste of his lord.

"_Wicked_!" Glorfindel breathed again, delighted, and then suddenly, there was the sound of a dry branch breaking beneath somebody's feet.

Shocked by the sudden intrusion at this private moment, Glorfindel and Legolas turned, the latter already desperately searching for a towel or their clothing to cover himself with. But their play had carried them a few steps away from the place where they had dropped their towels, and so Legolas found himself facing the glowering countenance of his brother without even a scrap of cloth to preserve his dignity. And even worse than facing his brother while naked, Galuron's grimace of distaste bore witness to the fact that there was still a puddle of Glorfindel's seed cooling on his belly, and most probably glistening on his lips as well.

"How _dare_ you intrude? Do you not know what this place is?" Glorfindel cried in disbelief, immediately springing up to place himself in front of Legolas, shielding him with his equally naked body. “This is a place of healing, hallowed to all the Galadhrim!”

"If anybody is disturbing the sanctity of this spring, then it would be you!" Galuron exclaimed in disgust. "I have made no effort to conceal the sound of my steps! Is it my fault that you were so lost in your depravities that you did not hear?"

"This is no place for quarrels," Glorfindel said in a dangerously soft voice, but before Galuron could react, Legolas interrupted.

"Let it rest, my lord," he said tiredly. "He thinks me a whore, and a traitor, and there is nothing I can do to change his mind. He had no love for me when I was but a child begging for some affection from my brothers, and he will have no love for me now, no matter what I say or do."

"Ah, but you are wrong there," Galuron said darkly, his eyes lingering on Legolas' lips. "It is what you do now that makes me abhor you. All your accusations of rape - and here I find you licking that depraved Noldo's seed from your fingers like a seasoned mortal whore!"

"Do you not - do you not share affection with your lovers, brother?" Legolas asked in a small, strained voice. "Do you not delight in giving them pleasure?"

Galuron laughed bitterly. "Lovers? Ah, you give yourself away, Legolas. Did I not hear you say that he was your _rapist?_"

Glorfindel made a sound of disgust, but before he could say a word, Legolas had gripped his arm to silence him.

"It was the truth, brother, even though I know you will never believe me," he said sadly. "Just think about this one thing, if you will... Why it is that the one who violated me is also the one who showed me happiness, for the first time in my life? Does that make me a whore - or does it not rather make my family monsters?"

Glorfindel looked thoughtful now, and sad as well. He raised a hand to tenderly cup Legolas' cheek, and the prince leaned into the caress, covering Glorfindel's hand with his own, smaller one.

"I did not feel like a whore today, or a slave... " Legolas whispered, his eyes bright. "I felt like a lover. I... _thank you_, my lord!"

Glorfindel smiled and drew Legolas into his arms, pressing a kiss to his brow. "You _are_ beloved, Legolas, never forget that!" he breathed, overcome with emotion.

A loud, startled gasp drove them apart. Legolas paled when he realized that in turning into his lord's arms, he had also turned his back to Galuron, and presented his brother with the convoluted mess of dark bruises and red welts that Glorfindel had left on his skin.

Legolas moaned, more mortified by this than he had been about being found by his brother with Glorfindel's seed drying on his body.

He quickly took two steps towards where they had left their towels, and snatched one up and wrapped it around his waist. It could not hide what the belt had done to him, nor would it erase the knowledge of what had happened earlier from his brother's mind, but at least he no longer felt quite so vulnerable.

"I - have you no respect for yourself?" Galuron asked, all traces of disgust finally gone from his voice. Instead, he stared at Legolas with shocked disbelief. "You let him do this to you, and still you call it _happiness_?"

“Yes,” Legolas said softly, “yes, I do. I... You will not understand, I know, but I asked him for this. And I am grateful for it, too. I would rather be with him, who punishes me for my mistakes so I may learn to please him better, than return to the father who seemed to punish me all the time without reason, although I have always done my best to please him.”

Legolas sighed and lowered his eyes for a moment, remembering what his life had been like in Mirkwood. Then he resolutely shook his head. “But that is over now,” he declared. “I may never be able to fully shake the hope of one day earning father’s love – but I am no longer dependent on it. I have my own son now, and his wellfare to worry about. And I also have my lord, whom I... whom I want to please with all my heart.”

As he spoke, he returned to Glorfindel’s side, and now he gracefully knelt down at his feet, taking his hand into his own and pressing a kiss to it in a bold declaration of where his allegiance now lay. “You are my only lord; you are the only one whom I serve,” he said fervently, not caring that he was forswearing his father and Mirkwood forever. “To you I owe the clothing that I wear, the food that I eat, to you I even owe my son, whom I love more than anything in this world. I shall serve you in any way that you ask, lord, and if I err, I will gladly bear whatever punishment you deem appropriate.”

Galuron laughed in bitter disbelief at the traitorous oath his brother had spoken. “Ai, what shame you and your curse have brought on yourself, Legolas!”

“It is no curse!” Legolas protested, “and I feel no shame, not for the beautiful son I was given! If there is any shame, then it is for the father that never once showed me love! How can you treat a child like that – your own child? I cannot imagine ever looking upon Gîl with anything but the utmost love! It is abominable... He is the one that is cursed, not I!”

“Abominable? What do _you_ know of _adar_?” Galuron snarled, now red with rage. “Poor, martyred little Legolas, who runs away from his realm to become the plaything of a Noldo – oh yes, father was cursed! Cursed by the Valar with the darkness encroaching on our forest, and with sons tainted by dark magic so that -“

"Sons?" Glorfindel interrupted in disbelief. "Do you expect us to believe that you or Celeirdúr are _cursed_ as well?"

Galuron fell silent. He was now trembling, but it seemed from shock rather than rage. He abruptly turned to flee, but Glorfindel was now enraged as well, and had long since lost any patience.

Before Galuron had managed to take more than a few steps, Glorfindel was upon him, and both of them fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs. With complete disregard to his nudity, Glorfindel pressed the slighter body of Thranduil’s second son into the ground, snarling when the prince tried to fight back.

“The truth! I _will_ have the truth out of you, Galuron, or Valar help me, I will make sure that you never father any children!”

“What use have you for the truth?” Galuron shouted back. “The two of you seem to have found your own truth – but you know nothing, Legolas, you know _nothing_! How dare you feel sorry for yourself when father lost a wife and a son to this curse you dare call a gift? You are a disgrace! I wish it had been you who had died there in Elvýr’s place!”

“Elvýr?” Glorfindel repeated in a dangerously soft voice. “Now this is interesting – tell me more, Galuron. The truth, the whole truth - _now_!”

“No!” Galuron cried, taking up his futile struggle again, until Glorfindel finally had enough and pressed his arm down on the prince’s throat with a growl, all but cutting off the breath of his captive.

“Please, do not hurt him!” Legolas cried fearfully, but he was still too shocked by what was happening in front of his eyes to even dare think of helping his brother.

“Tell me!” Glorfindel seethed, “tell me, Galuron – this is your last chance, or I swear I will kill you for all the hurt you have caused Legolas!”

Galuron made a choked noise but continued to struggle, until finally he was forced to give in. When Glorfindel cautiously lessened the pressure on his throat, he gasped and hungrily sucked down air, and then threw Legolas a poisonous look. “You want to know, Legolas?” he rasped. “_Adar_ has forbidden it to ever be talked about, but I cannot bear to hear you spread your filthy lies about him, not after all he had to suffer through! Yes, Legolas, _adar_ is no monster – far from it! All that he did was meant to protect you, from this curse that you bear - and maybe even from himself! For it was _you_ who sent our mother into a grief so deep that she could no longer bear to live! It was this curse that you carry that also killed my brother! How _dare_ you call it a gift when _adar_ himself had to give the order to have Elvýr’s life ended? When my brother went insane with horror before he died with the poison of orc-spawn growing in his belly?”

“I _hate_ you, Legolas!” Galuron whispered fiercely, and for the first time in his life, Legolas saw his cold, arrogant brother shed tears. “Would that _you_ had been the one raped by orcs, and not he! _You_ should have been the one to die - you traitor!"

\---------------------------  
Ai, Legolas velui, ammelui nín – Ah, my sweet, so very sweet Legolas  
Elvýr – literally translated, the name means 'star-follower'  
\---------------------------

  
**40**

Legolas had paled, and now tried to steady himself on the ground with trembling fingers. Once again he saw the vision that the Mirror had given him, the warrior with the fair hair who looked like his mother – the warrior whom he had feared had been his future self. But that was not who he was...

“Elvýr,” Legolas moaned, his eyes filling with tears as he once again relived the horror of helplessly witnessing the violation of his brother. And it had also been his brother who was pregnant, who lay bound and bloodied in his chamber in the royal wing. Legolas cried silently, grieving for the brother whom he had never known, who had suffered so. He saw again the grotesquely swollen belly stretched over the dark creature that was destroying Elvýr, driving him insane as it poisoned him.

Then Legolas swallowed, and turned haunted eyes to Galuron. "The ring," he whispered, "_His_ ring! He was bound, but _who-?_"

“A warrior in his company. He was killed by the orcs in that skirmish. And we thanked the Valar for their mercy, that he did not have to witness how Elvýr suffered before – before _adar_ ended his torment!” Galuron’s eyes were red from weeping, and his voice was full of loathing for the brother who had never been forced to live through their family’s pain.

“I want the entire story, Galuron!” Glorfindel commanded impatiently. “What happened to your mother? There have been countless rumors, but I want the truth now! I will not let you go until you tell Legolas why you treated him the way that you did. I will drag you back to our _talan_ if you force me to!”

“How dare you!” Galuron cried out indignantly, then fell silent when Glorfindel moved a hand back to his throat with a deadly smile.

“I saw her fall,” Legolas whispered, still kneeling on the ground. “I saw her fall, Galuron, her hair fluttering in the wind – Elvýr looked just like her, did he not? And so do I...” More tears ran down his cheeks. “I know you hate me, Galuron, but please, do I not have the right to know?”

“Oh, you do deserve to know – you deserve to know _exactly_ what pain _adar_ suffered through!” Galuron laughed in despair. “You who talk so much about how you love your son – can you feel no compassion for he who not only had his son violated by _yrch_, but had to watch while the foul spawn of the Dark Lord grew in his beloved son’s body, driving him to madness while it slowly killed him? Do you know what it did to _adar_, to be forced to take the life of his own son to save him from this unimaginable torment? And _naneth_...”

Galuron groaned, closing his eyes against the onslaught of his memories. “_Adar_ was never the same afterwards; for a time we feared he would succumb to madness himself. But _naneth_, _naneth_ suffered as well, and she would not talk to any of us – and _adar_, who was the only one who could have helped her bear this pain, _adar_ kept away from her, from all of us! Then the war started, and still they kept to themselves and found no healing, though _naneth_ was of a noble Sindarin line, and as resilient as the trees of our forest! For such a long time she clung to life, and we all could see her fade more from this world with every passing day – only her will kept her here, her Sindarin pride the only weapon against despair when her husband had become a stranger, and she could find no solace even with her remaining children!”

“Then, one day, she announced that she was pregnant with another child. We did not think she and _adar_ were even talking to each other anymore, she like a ghost and he like a wounded animal! Yet there she was, pregnant and growing more alive with every passing day. Even _adar_ seemed more like himself again, after such a long time of pain and war! After so many years, after over four centuries since that tragedy, we had hope again! And then, finally, she gave birth – to you.”

Galuron moaned and closed his eyes. “Our hopes, our dreams were so cruelly destroyed! What we thought was a gift of the Valar – another child to finally heal our family – was in the end just another torment visited upon our line! You looked like her, Legolas, yes – you looked just like Elvýr! What she had so long tried to suppress, the memory, the pain, it all came back to her. Every time she looked at you she suffered through it all again! And when the healer announced that you also bore the same curse as Elvýr – the curse that led him to that most horrible death! – then her fëa finally broke.

“For centuries she had clung to life, but she had no more strength left. She could not bear to look at you and each time see Elvýr’s death anew! She ran from us, like a ghost she fled, as if already she was no longer part of this world. No one could catch her, not any of _adar_’s captains, nor even _adar_ himself. She took the narrow path up into the mountains, and even today we still do not know if it was an accident, or if she could not even wait for Mandos to accompany her fëa to his Halls...”

Galuron was silent for a time.

“Yes, she fell, Legolas, she fell, and her fëa was already gone before _adar_ could reach her. Never again call him cruel, for you do not know what pain is! Better that you lived your life with the horses, well-guarded and hidden away, than that you caused _adar_ the same madness that killed _naneth_!"

"Why?" Legolas asked softly, still trembling as he knelt on the ground. "Why? Why would you keep this from me, why send me away without ever at least telling me the reason?"

Legolas closed his eyes, desperately trying to hold back the sobs that wanted to break forth. "You made me believe it was my fault, when it was nothing I had done! It is not my fault that I was born this way - blame the Valar if you must blame somebody! I know enough of pain, Galuron. I know that you will never believe me, but I know exactly how Elvýr felt. I know what it is like to be held down, to be used against your will, to hope that somebody will help you although you are all alone... and I know what it is like to give up, to beg for Mandos' embrace to ease the torment. How is it that you sent me away from my family so I would be safe from Elvýr's fate, yet when the same thing happened to me you laughed at my violation and called me a whore? Am I a whore for being weaker than an elf who has few equals in all of Middle-earth? Was Elvýr not then a whore as well? Why did you not laugh at him and exile him for lying with _yrch_? For that is what you did to me!" Legolas cried, now weeping bitterly as he relived how his father had betrayed him.

"How dare you belittle what Elvýr went through?" Enraged, Galuron once again began to struggle, but although Glorfindel had released his throat, he still had him securely pinned. "Do you think that I will believe your lies when it is so obvious that you are hiding the truth? A violated elf fades, Legolas – unless he has the strength of will to live.” His lip curled as he did not even bother to hide his contempt. “Yet here you are still, claiming to have found happiness with he who is our enemy!"

Glorfindel angrily slapped the hate-filled prince beneath him. "Long indeed have I been an enemy of your family, yet even I have shown Legolas more compassion than you do! How can you, as his brother, laugh at his pain? Do you truly hate him so much that you rejoice in his violation?

"For that is the truth, Galuron... I forced him, I abused him right there in your forest, and not only once, but twice! I had him twice, because he did not dare to tell his family, fearing your rejection! Yes, what he says is true... He was dying in my arms. His fëa was almost gone when I realized what I was doing.

"Yet I could not let him die, not like that - so I forced pleasure onto his inexperienced body. Ai, it was so very easy, for not only was he untouched, he was also starved for affection, for simple acknowledgement! No, do not call him a whore when it was you and your family who made him into such easy prey!"

"I wanted to die then," Legolas whispered sadly, his eyes unfocused as he saw the past now rather than his brother. "When _adar_ sent me away, I thought that I would die, that that was what _adar_ wanted, for me to die in a strange land, alone and forgotten - and I wanted it, too. You brought me up with the certainty that I am nothing, that nobody would care whether I existed or not. Oh, Celeirdúr might feel some sadness, yet even he, whom I adored for the small affection that he showed me, did not ever dare to intervene with the fate that _adar_ had decreed for me."

Legolas sighed. "Better I had died then, there at the lake in the forest, than having to face _adar_... yet I lived through that, and I lived through the journey to Imladris as well. I think I was nearly mad as well then from grief, yet I could not give up, although I wanted nothing more than to lie down and find peace in Mandos' arms. But I had more to think of than just myself - there was my child.

"Say what you want, Galuron, for I might be many things, but I am no coward. I knew what was waiting for me in Imladris - abuse certainly, imprisonment maybe, perhaps even death. Yet that was waiting for me everywhere else as well, for I was untrained in weaponry, in languages, and I did not even know how I was to give birth! So I came to Glorfindel, the father of my child, to give myself to him in exchange for my child's life."

"And what a wonderful father he must be," Galuron scoffed bitterly. "One look at your back certainly shows how well you have chosen!"

"He has reason enough to punish me," Legolas said softly. "Yet he loves Gîl just as much as I love him - and that is more than my _adar_ ever did."

Then Legolas tiredly shook his head. "Please, let him up, my lord... He has told us the truth now, just as you have asked him to, and he has listened to my truth as well. He might never believe me, yet at least I have tried one last time."

Reluctantly, Glorfindel stood, releasing his captive who raised a hand to his bruised throat and swallowed reflexively, before scrambling to his feet.

"_Adar_ will never forgive you, Legolas," Galuron spat, "not after that oath you swore!" He shifted his gaze to Glorfindel and grimaced in disgust.

"Ai, brother... I have not been my father's son since the day I was born!” Legolas said plaintively. “He was the one who sent me into exile - all that I have done was to finally accept what he said. I am nothing to him, as I am nothing to you. Yet my lord cares for me, and has declared my son his heir. For that he deserves my obedience, my loyalty, my admiration... And for that, you may finally call me a whore, for I know that the only thing of worth that I can ever give to him is my body."

"Your oath does not make you a whore; indeed, it only proves your nobility of spirit,” Glorfindel said gently, turning from Galuron to go to where Legolas still knelt. He carefully helped him up, then raised a hand to tenderly stroke his cheek. "_Pen vell_,” he sighed, then halted, giving Legolas a thoughtful look. “_Pen villen_," he finally breathed, gifting Legolas with a tender kiss to his brow when the youth began to tremble in his arms at the endearment.

"That was the oath of a vassal to his liege lord, and as such I accept it. In exchange for your servitude, I shall give protection, and for your admiration..." Glorfindel looked at Legolas, and then suddenly he smiled, a smile of joy that made him shine with an otherworldly radiance, so pure and bright that Galuron gasped and took a step back, while Legolas gazed wonderingly at his lord.

"For your admiration... _love_."

\----------------------------  
adar – father  
naneth – mother  
fëa - soul  
pen vell – dear one  
pen villen – beloved one [_villen_: past participle of _mil-_ ‘to love’]  
\----------------------------


	5. Chapters 41-50

**41**

Legolas looked at his lord, stunned, not knowing whether he should cast himself down at his feet, or kiss him with all of his passion right there in front of his brother. Again he could feel tears escaping his eyes, but for once he did not feel shame. Instead, he gladly stepped into his lord's embrace, resting his head on Glorfindel's shoulder as he surrendered himself to the safety his lord's arms brought him.

"_Pen villen... Legolas villen nín_," Glorfindel repeated, as if he were cherishing the sound of the words. “You are not nothing, never believe that! For you have found your way into my heart..."

His hand gently combed through Legolas' hair, and for a moment they stood silently, both enveloped by the light of Glorfindel's fëa.

Galuron was filled with rage at this latest proof of his brother's treachery, but he was also filled with fear, as for the first time he realized that this was indeed Glorfindel of Gondolin, Beloved of the Valar, who was reborn to carry the light of the Blessed Realm even on these mortal shores.

"Never will we forgive you!" he uttered as a last, helpless curse, before he turned and hurried away, still clutching his throat.

Legolas shivered, but he did not move away from Glorfindel. "I am yours, my lord," he whispered. "Their forgiveness does not matter to me anymore. I have done nothing for which I would need their forgiveness!"

"No, you have not," Glorfindel calmly agreed, then tilted Legolas' head up so he could see into his eyes. "Let us return to our talan... You are still weary, and you should rest before Fairion and Laindir return Gîl to us."

"Yes, lord,” Legolas sighed in agreement, but before he stepped out of Glorfindel's embrace, he shyly brushed his lips against his lord's cheek.

Later, when they were alone in their talan and after he had spread a soothing ointment on Legolas' back, Glorfindel grew pensive. Had it truly been only a day?

Scarcely more than a day and a night had passed, and yet this short time had brought them several revelations. And still, despite all that they had learned, Glorfindel felt that the most important revelation of all had been the realization that this young prince had done that which no one else had ever managed to do before. No matter how improbable it might have once seemed, Legolas had captured his heart.

"I fear that I have another talk with the Lord Celeborn coming up," he sighed, then smiled at the apprehension on Legolas' face. "Ah, never fear, _Legolas nín_. This time it will not be to show off the marks I have left on your skin. I do not revel in causing that kind of pain! I took no pleasure in that, and neither did you. It is indeed nothing I am proud of, and I promise you that I will never use pain like _that_ to play with you."

Glorfindel looked pensively at the dark bruises. Could Legolas understand the difference between earlier games with the cane, and the catharsis he had sought to give with the belt last night?

"There are those for whom that kind of pain is play as well, but I know that that is not so for you. And it is not something that I need to give either - indeed, having you kneel, or having you spread over my lap, is proof enough of your submission for me. Trust in me, Legolas... I shall never truly hurt you, not for my pleasure, and not unless you are in a situation where you need such relief as my belt gave you last night. And I beg the Valar that you will be spared that kind of torment from now on!"

Then Glorfindel took off his garments and joined Legolas on the bed. "Do you know," he mused, "I think that I never told you what I overheard last night, when I went to search for you at the Lady's Mirror. Do you remember that she invited Ellonúr to take a stroll in her garden? I think that he was invited to look into her Mirror as well, and that he accepted that offer. Indeed, now I find myself wondering if maybe that was not the real reason why he joined us on this journey?"

"I pray that he has been given kinder visions than were given to me," Legolas said softly. "Certainly there is also healing to be found in that glade?"

Glorfindel brushed Legolas' hair to the side so he could kiss him without interference. "Ai, the Valar preserve your compassion, _pen velui_," he sighed. "No, I fear that he found no healing with the Lady. I overheard a conversation he had with Celeborn, and what he is planning to do is a mistake, I am certain. He is full of pain, Legolas, his fëa is wounded - he feels like you did last night, when you begged me to take your pain away. He begged me for the same in Imladris, do you remember? Yet I rejected him. I cannot give him what I gave you; I fear that he is already gone too far. He searches to drown himself in pain, but where the pain helped you to let go of your guilt, I fear that it will only numb him and make him crave even greater pain.

"He has no limits left. He would do _anything_ to escape the pain of his fëa, and had I given in to his plea, I might have overstepped my limits as well. And I will not do that to him - I will not do that to _myself_! Truly, there is no healing in pain for him; his fëa needs healing of another kind."

"And will the Lord Celeborn give him that healing?" Legolas asked softly. Suddenly, he felt compassion where he had once felt fear and even jealousy when he recalled how Ellonúr had asked for his lord's attention. "He seems very wise, and..." Legolas blushed. "And also very knowledgeable in those games which Ellonúr wants."

Glorfindel gave Legolas a kind smile, then grinned and kissed the tip of his nose as if he were a child. "One day, you shall praise my knowledge in that area as well!" he declared, but then his smile grew sad. "But no... As much as I would have liked for him to let Celeborn help him, he rejected the offer. I can understand why; Celeborn's heart belongs solely to his Lady, and while he would have given the touch of his whip, and his cane, he would not have given his heart, or even his body.

"No, I fear that Ellonúr has decided to give himself to Haldir." Glorfindel sighed when he felt Legolas shudder. "Ai, you fear him still, _pen vell_ \- but maybe you do well to feel so. He is just as wounded as Ellonúr, and two such as this will never find healing with each other. As Ellonúr is so desperate that he has no limits left as to what he will allow done to himself, so I fear that Haldir has no limits as to what he will do, especially with one like Ellonúr who will goad him on. They will go too far, I am certain of that... This can only end in more pain for both of them, maybe even ending with such despair that only the journey West can bring healing."

Glorfindel shook his head then, and forced himself to let go of these dark thoughts. "Ah, but each of them has seen several centuries already. I cannot make their decisions for them, and if Ellonúr casts my friendship away, then I have no choice but to step aside and leave him to his mistakes. Forgive me for burdening you with my troubled thoughts, Legolas... You know neither of them very well, and both bear you ill feelings."

"Yet Ellonúr is your friend, lord," Legolas said sleepily. "I might have no advice to offer you, yet I am glad that you would open your heart to me. I might be too young and inexperienced to help with your troubles, but I shall always listen."

"And that in itself eases my mind somewhat already," Glorfindel sighed, and then finally turned all of his thoughts towards a lighter matter. He gathered Legolas' damp hair in his hands and quickly braided it into one single, long tail, which he then moved from Legolas' back to rest on the pillow next to his head instead. At Legolas' questioning glance, he took a phial of oil from the nightstand and poured some of the golden liquid into his palm.

"It will ease your muscles," he explained, and started his work on Legolas' neck, gently kneading the flesh that had not been touched by the belt. "That was a terrible ordeal you went through last night, and while you bore it like a true warrior-prince, there is no shame in accepting comfort once the trial is borne.”

Legolas could only moan in agreement when the knots of tension in his neck and shoulder muscles were skillfully kneaded by Glorfindel’s hands. “It is an infusion of comfrey and juniper,” the lord began to explain when he moved on to Legolas’ arms, starting with a massage of every single finger before he slowly worked his way upwards. “My warriors usually carry a small bottle of it with them when we are out on patrol, as it warms and relaxes sore muscles. Did Thalaron teach you yet about the medicinal herbs we require our guards to carry with them?”

Legolas made a soft sound of agreement. “Yes... though he said that he will herd us all out into the woods once the proper season arrives, and make us gather and prepare the herbs to show what we have learned.”

“Good; this knowledge is just as important as your skills with a sword.” Not that those were much to be proud of yet, Glorfindel thought as he moved on to Legolas’ arm. He marveled once again that he could encircle Legolas’ wrists so easily, his thumb and forefinger meeting over the point where he could feel Legolas’ pulse, and see the blue veins beneath his pale skin. It was true, Legolas was – delicate, he decided, eschewing the word ‘frail’. Even his upper arms, although now firm with hard muscles beneath the soft skin, were still only half the size of Glorfindel’s.

But then, it really was not fair to fault Legolas for things which were outside of his power. For someone who had taken up a sword less than a year ago, without any kind of basic training whatsoever during his earlier life, he was truly progressing well. The other youths simply had the advantage of their longer training – he really could not expect Legolas to best them after so short a time.

Glorfindel’s gaze fell back onto the thin wrists. Yes... it did not help that the youth did not have the build of a warrior either. Yet at least, he had the advantage of speed over those who were not as lithe as he. In time, he would certainly learn to make use of that advantage.

Once Glorfindel had accorded the same treatment to the other arm, with Legolas sighing his appreciation, he moved on to his feet. The first touch there got him a surprised squeak, and then, when he began to earnestly knead the sole of his foot, he was rewarded with several giggles and a helpless twitching. Glorfindel smiled wickedly when he moved on to his leg, stowing away the information for future usage.

Again Legolas’ legs parted when his hands reached the thigh, and Glorfindel rewarded Legolas’ acquiescence with a kiss, right on top of the red mark his mouth had left earlier. Then followed the other leg, again starting with the twitching, ticklish feet and ending at the thigh.

Legolas’ buttocks had been spared the bite of the belt, and the red lines the cane had left were already fading, so Glorfindel began to knead the firm, deliciously rounded muscles there as well. His eyes strayed to the small opening hidden between. Legolas had not yet had any time to prepare himself for Glorfindel as he usually did, and Glorfindel felt the first stirrings of arousal when he let his fingers stray towards the tight entrance. His thumbs circled the small muscle, anointing it with oil, and when two of his fingers slipped inside to spread the oil there as well, Legolas moaned in pleasure, his body accepting the intrusion as easily as if Glorfindel were a part of him.

Glorfindel kept his movements light, as if he were just continuing the massage from the inside, and did not penetrate Legolas deeply enough to give him real pleasure. Yet still Legolas tried to push up his hips, spreading his thighs further in an obvious invitation that was accompanied by soft, needful sounds.

“Ah,” Glorfindel sighed, gazing down at the beautiful, aroused youth that was his alone, “I did not know that in Mirkwood, they bred their princes for such sweetness in the bedchamber!”

Legolas turned his head to give Glorfindel a look of passionate supplication. “Please, my lord!” he pleaded. “Have me... I need to feel you! Take me like this, on my knees, as though you were a stallion – I will not feel my back this way! _Please_! One touch of you makes me drunk with desire, with need – do no make me suffer, lord!”

Glorfindel groaned and pulled up Legolas’ hips, arranging him on his hands and knees the way the youth had begged to be taken. “If I am your stallion, does that then mean that you are my little filly?”

Legolas moaned but wildly shook his head. “A yearling colt, lord, that has to be shown his place by his stallion!”

Glorfindel laughed throatily, both amused and aroused, and then loudly groaned when he finally gave in to Legolas’ pleading and pushed inside, savoring the tightness that enveloped him. “Valar... how I love this! How I love the way you feel!”

Legolas cried out, his arms giving way when Glorfindel’s length hit just the right spot.

“How I love the sounds you make!” Glorfindel groaned, continuing to thrust into the willing, open body that lay before him now in true supplication. He kept his rhythm fast and hard, his passion, his need for release driving him into a frenzy that was truly like the coupling of animals now, and only when Legolas spilled himself with a cry did he slow his pace somewhat.

Yet still he did not stop, and Legolas did not complain. If anything, his climax had made it even sweeter to use him, his body completely pliant, the epitome of submission as he continued to softly moan at the feel of Glorfindel’s length sliding in and out, cherishing the feeling of being completely possessed although there was no more pleasure in it for him.

“Spill yourself in me, lord,” he encouraged with a soft sigh. “Let me feel that I have pleased you!”

“Nobody has ever pleased me as you do!” Glorfindel gasped, his fingers leaving dark marks on Legolas’ thighs now so close did he pull him, and then Glorfindel cried out as well as he found release deep inside the core of his prince’s body, claiming him in that most intimate way, truly feeling like a stallion now who had proven his dominance over another.

Still gasping, he withdrew after a moment, and then lay down next to Legolas, the youth immediately moving to rest his head on his shoulder. “Ai, you have exhausted me!” Glorfindel sighed, waiting for his heartbeat to calm so that he would be able to think again. The ferociousness of their joining had surprised even himself – he had not thought of using Legolas when he had begun to massage him, truly only desiring to ease his muscles. “Are you well, _pen villen_?”

“More than well... yet I think there is one muscle that will be sore tomorrow despite your skillful massage,” Legolas said, and Glorfindel could feel his smile against his skin.

“Maybe I shall have to give that muscle another massage later then,” Glorfindel suggested, and now Legolas laughed.

“Truly, only you could have the stamina to suggest something like that,” he said affectionately, and then moved to find a more comfortable way of resting against his lord. “I shall endeavor to please you just as well then – just do not expect me to be awake, after the hard ride you just put me through.”

“Ah, and I am a bad rider, am I not? Look, I have ridden you nearly to death, your flanks are trembling and you are wet with sweat! Yet I do not have the strength left to fetch a cloth to wipe you down...”

“I am resilient, lord, I shall survive one day of neglect. Just do not forget to give me my workout tomorrow, or my muscles will get all stiff and sore!” Legolas gave Glorfindel a mischievous look, wondering a little at himself. How could he be so carefree after all that he had learned today? Yet it felt good to jest like this, to make his lord laugh, to hear the obvious affection this warrior felt for him. Yes... he could allow himself to believe what had happened. He was _loved_! He was loved by this noble lord whom he pleased, who was the first who found no fault with him.

He would worry tomorrow. For now, he would rest in his arms, safe in the knowledge of the love his lord bore him.

“Sleep, _pen villen_,” Glorfindel murmured, his voice already growing soft. “Let us nap, and when we wake again, I promise I shall take care of you.”

  
\------------------  
Pen villen... Legolas villen nín – Beloved one... my beloved Legolas  
Legolas nín – my Legolas  
pen velui – sweet one  
pen vell – dear one  
pen villen – beloved one  
\------------------

**42**

Gîlríon had woken them early that morning, demanding to be allowed to play in the Golden Wood almost as soon as the sun had risen. Yet Glorfindel had to meet with his guards, and so Legolas soon found himself outside alone with Gîlríon.

Anticipating a morning spent playing on the moss-covered ground of the forest, or perhaps along the banks of the river, Legolas had put on the oldest and most worn garment he possessed – an old robe already covered with grass stains, and so loose on him that he had to keep it wrapped around himself with a belt.

The first time Legolas had looked into a mirror that morning, he had groaned in dismay. It was not enough that the old robe looked like a dress on him, with the belt giving the impression of a narrow waist and curving hip – but he had all but forgotten that Glorfindel had braided his hair yesterday, when it had still been damp from their bath in the pool.

Now, just as during the feast when he had met Celeborn for the first time, his hair fell in gentle waves down his back. Legolas thought that he had never looked more like a girl – yet certainly Glorfindel would be more than pleased to find him like this when he got back.

Legolas frowned at his reflection, then sighed in resignation and allowed his chattering child to drag him away.

For an hour or two, they played in the forest, Gîlríon chasing after every bird he could see, until he got distracted by a curious squirrel. Later on, they picked flowers and made wreaths of them, but by the time they were finished, Gîlríon had started to tire.

“Shall we go look for your _atto_?” Legolas asked and gave his son a tender kiss before he put the wreaths on their heads. Then he picked Gîlríon up, laughing when the usually so exuberant child just snuggled tiredly into his arms now.

“You can have a nap once we have found your _atto_,” he promised, and then looked around. Their play had taken them away from their _talan_ – they could not be that far away from the guards’ barracks now.

Legolas resolved to ask the first person they met, for although he was certain that they had to be close, he had never been to the barracks before – and the first person that eventually crossed their way was indeed wearing the uniform of Lórien’s guards.

_Haldir_.

Legolas paled and took a step back.

The Marchwarden smiled, a cold, derisive smile that made Legolas tighten his grip on his dozing child.

“Ah, here I was almost glad to find you all alone, without your besotted protector hovering around...”

Legolas shivered at Haldir’s tone, remembering the first time they had met – and remembering also what Haldir had done to his brother. Glorfindel had said that Haldir’s fëa was wounded, yet what kind of wound could cause such a deep, festering hate? Even if there was a reason for it, he did not think that he would ever be able to forgive him for hurting Celeirdúr.

Haldir’s smile widened when Legolas could not quite hide his anxiety at this sudden meeting, and Legolas felt anger well up in him.

“Yet now I see that I was wrong. Never fear, princeling, I will do you no harm. I do not attack women,” Haldir said with another look full of contempt. “Hurry back to your golden Lord and make certain that the next time we meet, you have another infant suckling at your breast, so that I will not be tempted to draw my sword against you.”

“I am no woman!” Legolas protested, although he knew that he would have done better to follow Haldir’s suggestion and leave. “I am not afraid of you! I have a sword, I can protect myself!”

Haldir laughed at that and looked Legolas up and down. The youth self-consciously touched the flowers in his hair, and then flushed with even greater humiliation as he remembered what he looked like right now. Just like when they had met that first time, his hair was curled like that of a maiden, and instead of being heavily pregnant, he now carried a sleeping child in his arms.

“Just let me bring Gîl back to our _talan_, and fetch my sword – then I will give you the fight that you want,” Legolas said bravely, but Haldir shook his head.

“So that you can search for your Lord and have him fight your duels for you? And what kind of warrior would leave his sword behind in his rooms, so that he can play nursemaid to a child? It is now or never, prince.”

Legolas sighed tiredly and shifted Gîl’s weight to his other arm. “But how do you suggest I fight you without my sword?” he asked. “I promise, I will not tell Glorfindel, I do not even know where he is! But Gîl is tired; even you should be able to see that. Do you want me to fight with my son in my arms?”

"It might come to that if you are attacked on your way back," Haldir said cruelly. "Will you tell them then to wait until you have found a nursemaid? Yet we shall find someone to guard his sleep, princeling, never fear - and I shall find you a sword as well."

Legolas sighed when he realized that this went exactly the way Haldir must have anticipated. The marchwarden wanted to humiliate him, there was no doubt about that, and no matter how bravely Legolas might act, he knew that he would barely last a few minutes in a fight.

Yet by now, the greater humiliation seemed to him to run away, to show Haldir that he feared him. He was not the frightened child he had once been - the child that Haldir had met in Imladris. He was a prince... No, more than that, he was _beloved_ by Glorfindel of Gondolin. He might be no great warrior, but he had courage enough not to run from a fight.

He might not win, but he would gladly take the bruises Haldir would give him to prove to everybody that he was no coward. They could laugh at him for losing, but he would not let them take his courage from him.

"There we are," Haldir finally announced when the path led them towards a large clearing. The _mellyrn_ surrounding the space were smaller than they were in the center of Caras Galadhon, yet still they dwarfed even the oldest trees of Mirkwood.

The branches of each tree held several _telain_ with wooden constructions on them that seemed to be both airy and sturdy at the same time. They were unlike any building Legolas had seen in the Golden Wood so far, but when he saw the warriors that were sparring on the ground, walking on the winding wooden pathways and bridges that connected the _telain_, or simply sitting in spots of sunshine laughing with friends, he realized that they had finally come to the barracks.

There were buildings on the ground here, too, stables and sheds at one end of the clearing - and armories as well, Legolas soon discovered when Haldir went into one without another word to him.

For a moment, Legolas tightened his hold on Gîlríon who tiredly mumbled something against his shoulder, but apart from a few curious looks, nobody reacted to his presence.

_For now_, Legolas thought bitterly, knowing that there would be the usual taunts as soon as they realized what Haldir planned to do. By then, Gîl had to be somewhere else - but which of these soldiers here could he trust with his son?

He did not think that any of them would harm Gîl, but all the same, to trust them with his child, when he knew what they all thought about him...

He sighed, but then straightened when Haldir returned with a sword in his hand.

"Here - this is the standard practice sword we use for sparring. Dos this meet with your approval? Or... if you are afraid of a sharp blade, I can go begging among the children of Caras Galadhon for wooden swords?"

Haldir smirked, and although Legolas hated himself for it, he did not dare to protest.

The truth was that he _had_ used a wooden blade until a few months ago, and the practice swords they now used were blunt. A real, sharp weapon that could do true harm he had only used a few times thus far, and it had always been during light sparring with Glorfindel, who was careful not to injure him - and who also had never once been even remotely in danger of being touched by Legolas' blade.

Legolas tried to not let his thoughts show as he accepted the sword from Haldir's hand, but to his dismay he found that the sword was not only sharp - but also heavy. Too heavy for his dainty little maiden's wrists, he thought angrily, wishing now more than ever that he would have thought of taking his own, lighter sword with him when he went out.

But then, what did it matter? Either way, he would lose against Haldir - but this way, it would be more humiliating if it seemed like he could not even hold a sword.

"My son will _not_ watch this," he said decisively, glaring at Haldir as if he were just waiting for him to protest. But Haldir only smiled and nodded.

"Yes... I would think that you do not want him to see _that_," he drawled, and Legolas' hand tightened around the sword in annoyance.

"Your Lord's warriors have been assigned that _talan_ over there - certainly one of them can be made to watch over him."

Legolas looked towards the tree Haldir was pointing at, feeling relieved when he found only one of the guards sitting outside of the building. He might need someone to look after Gîl... but he definitely did not need any more witnesses to his upcoming humiliation. Especially not the guards he had come to like and respect during the journey...

"I will be back in a moment," he told Haldir, ignoring his soft laughter as he set out for the _talan_ Haldir had shown him. Haldir had not thought to give him a sheath for the sword, and now he felt slightly ridiculous as he crossed the clearing with his son in one arm, and a drawn blade in the other.

When he got closer, the guard looked up and gave him a questioning look, while Legolas sighed in relief. He had been half afraid that it might have been Fairion or Laindir, and while he liked the two, they might have tried to stop him from fighting with Haldir.

This guard, though, was one whom he had not really talked to during the journey, and while he looked somewhat discomfited at Legolas’ sword, he did not protest when Legolas asked him to bring Gîlríon to Glorfindel. Apparently the Lord had left the barracks to meet with some of Lórien’s advisors, and Legolas had to suppress a relieved sigh at the news. He knew what would happen if Glorfindel were to witness their fight – he would want to protect Legolas, as he had promised, and take his place.

But this was something Legolas needed to do. Haldir might continue to hate him for whatever reason was behind his dislike of all Sindar, but at least after this fight, he would not be able to call him either a coward, or a maiden.

Now that he no longer had to worry about his son, he returned with new resolve to where Haldir was still waiting for him. A throng of Lórien guards had assembled at the prospect of a duel, and Legolas felt the familiar fear well up in him at the humiliation that lay ahead. Would it not be easier to find some excuse to return the sword to Haldir, and then flee?

It would be easier – but it would be craven. And whenever they would meet again in the future, they would both know that he was a coward.

Yet he was no coward - for how could Glorfindel love a coward? There was strength in him; his Lord had told him so often enough. Legolas feared that it might not be the bodily strength that he needed to win this duel, but he knew that he did have the strength of spirit to survive a humiliating loss and still walk away with his honor intact.

  
\-------------  
talan (pl. telain) - flet  
atto - father [Quenya]  
\-------------

  
**43**

"Ready now, princeling? Or is there anything else you need to do first? _Yrch_ will not wait until you have finished brushing your hair," Haldir said with another of his derisive smiles that made Legolas wish more than anything for the strength to beat him.

"I am ready - no, wait," Legolas added in dismay. "I cannot fight in this robe."

"Then take it off." Haldir rolled his eyes. "Unless, like a maiden, you are afraid of showing your body?"

There was some laughter at Haldir's remark, and although it was mostly goodnatured, yet still Legolas flushed with anger and shame.

Even though he most certainly was no maiden, he still did not want to take off his robe. He knew what would happen then. Haldir would stare at his nipples, even though he did not look so different from any other male youth now, and make some remark about suckling infants - like he had earlier.

And Legolas _hated_ that. It was not that he was embarrassed about nursing a child - it did not make him female any more than a woman without a child was male, in his opinion - but it was something _private_, something only for him, his child and Glorfindel. He did not want someone like Haldir to make derisive comments about it, simply because Haldir had no right to do so.

No, he would not take off his robe - but he could not fight in it like this either, or he would certainly trip over it and fall. And he did not need to make it even easier for Haldir than it already was...

Impulsively, he gathered the hem of the robe up in his hand, using his sword to make two long cuts from the bottom up to his waist on each side. This way, he would be able to move in it, and as for the danger of tripping... Two more cuts, and the robe only reached to his knees now.

Legolas straightened in triumph. "Now I am ready.”

"Are you certain, prince?" Haldir inquired with a slow smile. "Maybe you need to rebraid your hair, or dab some scented oil onto your wrists...?"

"I said that I am ready," Legolas repeated heatedly. It was true, he would have liked to have worn braids in his hair, if only to show that he was no child, but he could fight just as well without them.

Haldir raised a brow at his tone, but did not react otherwise. "Very well then," he said and took a step back, their audience retreating as well to form a half-circle behind him. "Show me how you handle a real sword, _prince_."

Legolas raised his sword at the same time as Haldir, frowning at the unfamiliar weight. But then he let go of that thought, concentrating only on Haldir and his movements. He had been taught by Thalaron, and by Glorfindel himself. He would honor his teachers and fight well, even if it was obvious to everyone here that he was no match for Haldir.

For a moment he looked at the tip of Haldir's sword, watching the tiny movements as he tried to foresee the first attack - but then he remembered Thalaron's teaching.

How often had their teacher chided them for not looking into their opponent’s eyes? He claimed that they would be able to foretell a move from watching their eyes, and although Legolas had never been able to read more than anger, exhaustion, or the fierce desire to win in the face of his sparring partners, he did not doubt that Thalaron's words were true.

Still, even though he guessed that it would take him at least another decade to become the kind of warrior that could foretell attack moves from looking into another's eyes, there was no need to show Haldir his inexperience.

Once he met the Marchwarden's gaze, he was once again the victim of another mocking smile. Legolas felt rage curl inside his belly like a dark, poisonous fire. He had seen that smile before - when Haldir had hurt Celeirdúr. He had been helpless then; all he could do was to offer himself as victim in his brother's stead.

But he was no longer helpless. He was no longer a victim.

Silently, Legolas kept watching Haldir, waiting for him to make the first move. Haldir in turn seemed to be waiting for Legolas to open the fight - but Legolas was not that inexperienced, and not quite so enraged either. If he just stormed at Haldir with his sword raised high, the odds were that in the blink of an eye, he would be rubbing his wrist while his sword landed far out of his reach.

He had learned that lesson from Thalaron, and he would not repeat it with Haldir.

For another long moment they continued to watch each other expectantly, until finally their audience began to call out to them.

Now Legolas was the one who smiled, feeling like he had won the first round of the fight - because there was nothing they could do to make him attack first; there was no taunt strong enough to make him lose this advantage.

He could feel the heat of the sun shining down onto his head, a lazy breeze moving a few strands of hair, and hear the sounds made by the throng of warriors: shuffling, a few laughs, excited whispers.

The thought came suddenly, but strangely enough it did not surprise him: Legolas felt at home here. It was not all that different from the training field in Imladris, and Lórien's soldiers were like the guards he had come to know and like during the journey. He felt as if he belonged, and he knew that one day he would be a warrior like those who were now watching him - for how could it be otherwise, with a teacher like Glorfindel?

Haldir's first attack came suddenly, but Legolas parried it before he had even realized what he was doing. The sword came at him again, and again he parried, steel ringing as they exchanged those first few hits.

Legolas felt an involuntary smile form on his face. He might not be good at it, but that did not mean that he could not enjoy this. Oh, he knew that right now, Haldir was going more than easy on him; even Thalaron made it more difficult for him to keep up with during their practice drills. Haldir was testing him; he was not playing with him just yet, but that would certainly come once he had discovered the full extent of Legolas’ abilities.

But until then, Legolas resolved to do his teachers proud.

Again Haldir's sword flashed, and Legolas blocked it, dancing away from the blade when Haldir twirled to come at him from the side.

Legolas grinned, feeling a strange sense of exhilaration at the exchange. For a moment, he could even forget about Haldir's insults, because when a fight went like this, when each move was answered by countermove, each thrust by a parry, it became a dance, and Legolas felt as if he could lose himself in the beauty of it.

"Very good, prince," Haldir said with that exaggerated drawl of his that immediately shattered Legolas' mood. "So now we know that Thalaron let you hold a sword once or twice, for you know how to strike a beginner's pose."

Legolas pressed his lips together in annoyance, but refused to react to the taunt. He was not _that_ green that he would attack Haldir in anger - and he had more than enough experience in living with that kind of insult.

"But I think our discussion earlier was not about swordfighting?" Haldir continued, and Legolas tried to hide his dismay by wiping the sweat from his brow, now that there was a short pause in the fight. He knew what would come next - Haldir was too malicious not to take advantage of the gathered crowd. Now he would humiliate him with his ability to bear children, in front of all of the gathered warriors.

Let him, Legolas thought tiredly, his earlier sense of belonging suddenly gone. It had been a fool's hope to even think of it - he might be a warrior one day, but he would never be one of them. He _was_ different, and there was nothing that he could do to change it.

"I still think that there is a maiden hiding beneath that robe," Haldir continued and was answered by laughter.

"Do you not think that Glorfindel would know the difference?" one of the soldiers called out, and Haldir grinned.

"Ah, but he is ancient... he might have forgotten! I intend to find out for myself exactly just what Glorfindel has taken to his bed."

“You know who I am. After all, it was you who told Glorfindel." Legolas sighed wearily, realizing that there was nothing he could say to make Haldir relent. No matter what his excuse, the simple truth was that Haldir _wanted_ to humiliate him and would do so in any way possible. Yet Legolas could not simply stay silent...

"What do you want to prove with this, Haldir? I know that you think that my life is of no worth, but if you were to kill me now, you would not only have to answer to my Lord - your Lord and Lady would not let it pass either."

There were some shocked gasps at his words, but Haldir only laughed. "Kill you? Why would I want to do that? Oh no, little prince, this is nothing but a friendly practice bout - and one which _you_ suggested, if I may remind you. Neither my Lord nor my Lady, nor even Glorfindel can say anything against it."

He came at Legolas again, their swords clashing, and Haldir used the proximity to quietly threaten him. "I will not kill you, Legolas... but let us see if I cannot make you cry without drawing even a single drop of your blood."

Legolas jumped back, his eyes wide with shock. Maybe he had underestimated Haldir after all – maybe, in the end, he would not be able to bravely bear the impending humiliation?

Then he deliberately relaxed his grip on his sword again, the way Thalaron had shown him, his eyes narrowing with renewed determination. Haldir might threaten, but it was Legolas’ strength that would decide the outcome.

_I will not cry!_ Legolas vowed silently, but then, when their duel started anew, all of his hope fled and was supplanted with the dreadful feeling that Haldir was right, and that he _would_ cry.

For Haldir was more than just good with a sword. He might not be better than Glorfindel – _nobody_ was better than Glorfindel with a sword! – but he was very, very good, and so very quick!

Legolas cried out in dismay when at his next feeble parry, Haldir effortlessly danced away from him, his sword all of a sudden coming at him from a totally different angle. Legolas gasped when the blade seemed to graze his side, but there was no pain, and it took another moment for him to realize what Haldir had done.

Haldir had cut through the belt that held his old robe closed, without even scratching his skin! Legolas took a step back in panic, the robe starting to slip from his shoulders, and when he grabbed at it with one hand to keep it wrapped around himself, Haldir laughed.

“So you cherish your modesty even over your defence?” he asked, sarcasm dripping from his words, and Legolas realized that this was his choice. More than his skill with a sword, this decision was what would truly decide the fight for him. He could hold his robe closed with one hand, and try to fight with his sword in the other hand. It would be awkward and would leave him off-balance – and that with a sword that had already been too heavy for him even before they had begun to fight. Or he could take off the robe and allow Haldir to stare at him and mock him for his body – and bare the welts on his back to an audience who would no doubt ridicule him for it.

To surrender or to fight– it truly was the old choice.

Legolas straightened, his head raised defiantly as he let go of his robe. He did not move as it slipped from his shoulders, his gaze unwavering as he dared Haldir to make a comment about his body.

And of course, Haldir did not disappoint him.

“So – no maiden after all?” Haldir asked, staring blatantly at his chest, and Legolas had to fight the urge to cover himself with his arms – like a maiden. “But then, rumor has it that you suckled the babe yourself, so maybe you are just not very well developed?”

Some of the soldiers standing behind Haldir chuckled, but those that were standing where they could see Legolas’ back were silent, and that alarmed Legolas more than any of Haldir’s comments.

“I did,“ Legolas countered, for once too enraged to be embarrassed about the way that his body had changed then. “Though I do not know why that fact holds such an unhealthy fascination for you. If you want a family of your own, find an _elleth_ who is willing to marry you. Or is that the problem? You cannot find anybody who would want you?”

Haldir’s eyes narrowed, and all of a sudden Legolas found himself trying to parry another flurry of thrusts. Already his arm ached from the weight of the sword and the force with which Haldir’s blade met his own, and after a few moments of this Legolas knew that he would not be able to hold out much longer. He knew that Haldir was still only playing with him – all those who were watching had to know it – but still he was already gasping for breath, and trembling from exertion.

And then Haldir moved forward again, his sword coming at him from high above, and when Legolas pulled his own sword up to meet Haldir’s attack, he realized too late that it had been a feint.

His blade caught against Haldir’s guard, and with what looked like nothing more but an effortless flick of his wrist, Haldir disarmed him.

Legolas wavered, but when Haldir advanced threateningly upon him, he retreated in a panic. He did not see his discarded robe and in his haste his feet entangled in it, felling him to the ground. He groaned with relief to see his sword lying near him, but just when he reached out to wrap his fingers around the hilt, he felt the sharp tip of Haldir’s blade coming to rest against his throat.

“So, Legolas,” Haldir said, and Legolas could hear the sneer in his voice when he spoke his name. “It seems to me that I have won. Do you yield?”

Haldir pulled his sword away from Legolas throat, so that the youth would be able to take up his own sword again if he wanted to. “Or do you want to continue this farce?”

Legolas had almost been glad that it was finally over, but now there was a fierce anger in his belly that would not let him surrender. With a defiant growl he closed his fingers around the hilt – but then he felt Haldir’s sword again, this time at his belly.

Slowly, Legolas looked up, his fingers tightly curled around his weapon once more – and yet it was too late to defend himself. For one long moment of disbelieving fear, he watched as the tip of Haldir’s sword moved further down towards his groin.

Legolas held his breath. Certainly Haldir _would not_...

And then, with another quick movement, Haldir pulled his sword back, angling it in such a way that the blade sliced through most of the lacing that held Legolas’ leggings closed.

This time, Legolas was not able to suppress his gasp of fear, and he pressed one hand protectively against his groin while he tried to scramble back.

“So, stand up and let us see then what you are hiding,” Haldir drawled. “No need to be shy – one thing that everybody knows, after all, is the fact that you are no virgin.”

Slowly, painfully, Legolas forced himself to get up. The leggings slipped down when he stood, baring him completely to Haldir – baring him to the gaze of everyone who had watched the duel.

“No maiden after all? But I could swear that I saw you with a child in your arms just moments ago,” Haldir said with feigned surprise.

Legolas smiled almost sadly. He had tried to be courageous, had tried to be honorable – but what he had not thought of was that _Haldir_ might choose not to act honorably.

There were tears in his eyes now, just as Haldir had so hatefully predicted, but instead of the hot glow of embarrassment, there was only a coldness inside him.

“You have won, Haldir,” he said tonelessly. “You have even made me cry, like you wanted. Is it enough now? I thought to preserve my honor by agreeing to fight you, but instead you have taught me that there is no honor to be had in fighting the likes of _you_.”

Legolas realized that he was trembling, but he did not feel any fear – he only felt numb. He closed his eyes, giving in to resignation at last. “Let me go, Haldir,” he whispered, the tears running down his cheeks. “I will beg if that is what you want...”

  
**44**

  
Haldir sneered at the prince. "And you beg so prettily! Does Glorfindel like to see you cry? He must - why would he keep you with him otherwise?"

Legolas froze at Haldir’s taunt, despair quickly making way for the realization that Haldir knew _nothing_ about what was between him and Glorfindel.

"And that is where you are wrong," he replied softly, raising his head to look at Haldir, an air of quiet dignity surrounding him although he was naked and his cheeks were still streaked with tears. "He loves me, that is why he keeps me with him. And I..." Legolas sighed, his eyes growing soft as he thought of the noble Lord whom he had sworn his life to just yesterday.

"And I love _him_. As I love the child that has been given to us. There is nothing that you could possibly say or do to destroy that, Haldir."

"You think that he loves you?" Haldir said incredulously, and then began to laugh. "Oh, that is precious, even for you."

"Yet it is the truth," Legolas said simply, smiling again when he thought of Glorfindel, who was all that was good and noble, and who was wicked only when it brought pleasure.

It did not matter quite so much anymore that Haldir had succeeded in defeating and humiliating him. Oh, he knew why Haldir had chosen to bare him to the eyes of all the gathered warriors - to teach him his place, to show him that he was no warrior but a whore, whose body was to be used for pleasure and not swordplay. Yet Legolas knew now that it was not true, for how could he be a whore when Glorfindel had named him beloved?

He pulled the certainty of his Lord's love around him like armor, then turned away from Haldir without deigning to give him another glance. With an annoyed sigh, he kicked his leggings away and then bent to take his ruined robe, but just when he had closed his fingers around it, he heard a surprised sound and a hand gripped his shoulder harshly.

"What is that?" Haldir demanded, and although he sounded triumphant, there was also a strange undercurrent of disbelief in his voice which Legolas could not place.

"Is that what you mean when you talk of love? You poor, besotted thing - you have mistaken the touch of the whip for love," Haldir declared with false compassion.

His hand still held Legolas' shoulder in a tight grip, and he used it to yank the youth around so that his back was now to the warriors clustered behind Haldir. With his other hand he ungently traced a large bruise, and at his touch Legolas cried out and tried to pull away.

"Do you cry when he hurts you?" Haldir said, gloating at the secret he had discovered. "Do you whimper and beg to be allowed to serve him, just so that he will put the whip down? You little liar... a warrior like Glorfindel would never be able to feel love for such a whimpering, weak coward as _you_."

Legolas had stood frozen with shocked dismay when Haldir had started to talk about the welts on his back, but at this latest insult his anger returned with a force that he had never felt before.

"How dare you?" he asked, his voice trembling with fury. "Does Ellonúr know that you think him a whimpering, weak coward? Did you tell him that what he undoubtedly thinks is a gift he gives you, is in truth something that makes you despise him? It is no wonder that Lord Celeborn tried everything he could to keep him away from you!"

Haldir was silent at last, his eyes wide with shock. The grip he had on Legolas' shoulder weakened, and the youth violently pulled away.

"How do you know all of that?" Haldir demanded, his voice dangerously soft, but before Legolas could answer, there was a sudden commotion as another Marchwarden forced himself through the circle of warriors, while one of the guards behind Legolas came forward to wrap a cloak around his shoulders, which the youth gratefully pulled tightly around himself.

"That is enough, Haldir," the newly-arrived Marchwarden said firmly. "You are overstepping your bounds. It is inexcusable to so insult one who is an honored guest of our Lord and Lady - and the consort of the famous Glorfindel... Ai, Haldir, what were you thinking?"

"Consort?" Haldir laughed scathingly. "He has a child, but I see no ring on his finger. No, it is obvious what Glorfindel thinks of him, and it is not 'consort'!"

"Haldir! _Enough_!" the guard who had given Legolas his cloak said with exasperation. Then he sighed and shook his head before he continued. "What were you thinking, Haldir? He is but a child - and he has done nothing whatsoever to excuse such behavior."

"Do not call him child," the other Marchwarden said, giving Legolas a reassuring smile. "He fought well for one who cannot have seen his majority more than a few years ago."

"He has not seen his majority at all," the guard who still stood with Legolas said dryly, and Legolas frowned, wondering how he knew so much about him. "He is still a few years shy of that - but you truly fought well, Legolas. For how long have you been using a sword?"

Legolas flushed at the questioning, feeling very young all of a sudden. When he looked up, he found that Haldir was sneering at him - although it seemed like the presence of the other Marchwarden was enough to keep him silent for now. But then, Haldir had already succeeded in humiliating him in front of the warriors...

"Almost a year..." he admitted softly and looked down again, ashamed of his inadequacy.

"Only a year?" the other Marchwarden exclaimed, and there was some surprised murmuring among the warriors. "You are truly very good for that! For how long have you been practicing with a real sword, then? Did Glorfindel see your talent and let you use steel right from the beginning?"

"I..." Legolas felt hot and miserable with shame at the way this questioning made him admit that he was truly not much more an a child. "When we left for Lórien – he gave me a real sword as a present." He swallowed when he looked up and found everybody staring at him with surprise in their eyes. "I am much better with my own sword," he said belligerently. "This one, it is very heavy..."

"Yes, I can see that you would be much better with a lighter weapon - you are very quick, and if you keep at it, I would not be at all surprised to see you beating him one day."

Legolas smiled tentatively at this praise from the guard who still stood with him, although Haldir was gifting them both with an icy glare now. If not for the fact that the other Marchwarden was still standing with Haldir, Legolas might have been afraid of being attacked again, but now it felt as if the situation had shifted in his favor.

And despite Haldir's continued animosity, it felt good to hear the guard's praise, because even though Legolas had heard the same from Glorfindel and Thalaron, it felt different to hear it from someone who did not know him.

Only this elf seemed to know him, somehow... Legolas frowned.

“Come, let me see if I cannot find some new ties for you somewhere,” the guard now said and picked up the pair of leggings before he wrapped his arm around Legolas’ shoulder to lead him away. When Legolas looked back, he saw that the other Marchwarden was now sternly interrogating the warriors while Haldir kept his silence, although he was starting to look uncomfortable at the way things had turned out.

“I am sorry for what my brother did to you, truly,” the guard at Legolas' side sighed, once they had taken a few steps away and could no longer be overheard.

“Your _brother_?” Legolas stopped, startled by this revelation.

“Forgive me; I did not introduce myself… My name is Rúmil,” the elf said and bowed. “And I am truly sorry for what my brother did. I wish I could say that he did not mean it, but we both know that that is not true. There are reasons for the hatred he feels, but that does not excuse what he just did to you. I must apologize again, Highness, I should have intervened sooner, but as you can see he is of higher rank than me, which sometimes makes it very difficult for us to keep him from making mistakes.”

“It is not your fault,” Legolas said automatically. “It is my fault for even agreeing to such a thing. I should have known better – I should have thought about Gîl.”

“No – _he_ should have known better than to bring a small child into this,” Rúmil said, his eyes narrowing. “That is truly unforgivable, and I will make sure that our Lord hears of it.”

“I fear that my Lord will hear of it too, and I do not think that he will be happy – either with Haldir for forcing me to a duel, or with me for accepting.” Legolas shook his head, still puzzled by Haldir’s dislike of him, which he could see no reason for.

“Your brother seems to hate me solely for the reason that I am Thranduil’s son, but does he not know that I am an exile? That I was told by my father that I am no longer his son? If my father had been here to see, he would have applauded Haldir – he would have told him to finish it, and take my life,” Legolas said sadly.

Rúmil shook his head. “That is nothing you should dwell upon… You are very young yet, and do you not have a family of your own now? I know Glorfindel, at least in the way that a soldier comes to know his commander, and he is a good and noble man. And you have given him a child – the family that he has longed for for millennia, but which he thought he would never have… Ah, he must cherish you more than the stars themselves!”

Legolas blushed, but found himself agreeing with Rúmil’s words. “As I cherish him,” he said with a sigh of longing, thinking of the comfort he found in his Lord’s arms. More than anything, he wanted to find peace in his embrace after the excitement of this morning – but before that, he knew that he would have to endure his Lord’s questioning.

“If you do not mind, I will accompany you back to Lord Glorfindel. I want to apologize for my brother’s misconduct again, and reassure him that only a negligible minority shares his views.”

“But what _are_ his views? Why does he dislike me so?” Legolas asked in frustration. “Because of my Sindarin heritage? But is not your Lord himself a Sindarin prince? And neither your Lord nor your Lady seem to bear me any ill will!”

Rúmil laughed, but there was no warmth in his voice, and for a moment Legolas thought that he had gone too far with his questions.

“My brother is a complicated man – even our Lord Celeborn has given up on changing his opinion about this particular matter. Rumor has it that you grew up very sheltered, but certainly you must know that when relations between our realms became more and more strained, there was a part of Lórien’s population that agreed with your father's prejudices? Even though our Lady’s daughter married the Lord Elrond, there were still many of the Galadhrim who had not forgotten what sorrow the Noldor brought upon us.”

Rúmil sighed and shook his head. “I think it is utterly foolish,” he said frankly, “and blaming the Noldor of Imladris for the Kinslaying is like blaming you for your father’s mistakes. Did the Lord Elrond not lose his parents through the war brought upon us by Fëanor? In the end, he is as much a victim of the Kinslaying as those who would blame him for it.

"And what my brother blames you for – you were not even born when our father decided that Thranduil’s cause mattered more to him than the love of his family. He left Lórien, abandoning his wife and children, and in the end, died in Mirkwood – and not even for your father’s ideals. His patrol was beset by spiders.”

Rúmil fell silent for a moment, then shook his head and sighed before he quickly continued. “I do not suffer from my brother's helpless anger, yet I do not like to dwell on this either. Our mother never ceased to wait for our father, believing that in the end that he would return to her, and the children he begat with her. Yet once she heard what had happened, her light died along with her hope, and she could no longer bear to stay here, not even though we were still with her… She sailed west in the end, leaving us parentless, and that is why Haldir blames your father for the destruction of our family.”

Rúmil paused again, and when he continued, his voice was soft and he did not look at Legolas. “I have not told you this because I want you to forgive Haldir… but maybe now at least you can understand why he seems to hate you. It is not truly _you_ whom he hates, but you are the closest he can come to the one whom he holds responsible.”

Legolas was silent for a while, thinking about Rúmil’s words. It was true – he could understand now just why Haldir treated him the way that he did. He could understand… but he could not forgive, not as long as Haldir did not apologize.

“I am sorry for what happened to your family, and thankful for your explanation – but you are right,” he finally answered, hesitating over his next words. “If he realizes that I have done nothing to deserve his scorn, and if he apologizes, then I will gladly forgive him. But if he continues to hate me simply because I am the son of my father… I do not _want_ to dislike him, Rúmil, but I cannot feel charitable towards him either. I will simply take more care in the future to stay out of his way, and I will never agree to a challenge like that again.”

Rúmil laughed warmly and surprised Legolas by wrapping his arm around his shoulders once more. “No, that is not what I wanted – do not let him intimidate you! What you did was a brave thing, and all those who watched you today will remember it. Haldir may have won the duel, but your courage won the hearts of Lórien’s guards.”  


  


  


  


**45**

Despite Rúmil's kind words, Legolas once again began to feel nervous when they approached the talan he shared with Glorfindel. He almost hoped that his Lord had not returned yet, although he knew that as soon as Glorfindel started to question the guard he had sent to him with Gîl, he must have realized what was about to happen.

Legolas lowered his head and sighed, no longer quite so confident now. Who knew how his Lord would react? He paled when he thought of the uncaring way with which he had declared himself Glorfindel's beloved - what if his Lord would be embarrassed by the way he had talked about him in front of the soldiers? For while it was true that Glorfindel had named him thus, what Haldir had sought to hurt him with was also the truth - that it was obvious that Glorfindel did not think of him as consort, as there was no ring on his finger.

Legolas no longer thought of himself as a whore, or a slave, but despite all that they had been through, he knew that their relationship was still too complicated to be expressed in such simple terms as that endearment. He had thought that when Glorfindel had called him his beloved, that there was nothing else he needed to be happy, but in the face of Haldir's malicious words he found his old doubts returning.

"Are you well, Highness?" Rúmil asked hesitantly. "My brother did not hurt you, did he?"

"I am well, do not worry... I am just wondering what I will tell my Lord," Legolas sighed.

"Oh..." Rúmil faltered for a moment as though he were not certain whether to speak. "Are you... He will not hurt you, will he?” He swallowed, then quickly continued.

"I know that Lórien might not seem like a welcoming place for one who was born a son of Thranduil, yet despite his appearances, is our Lord not a Sindarin prince himself, cousin to your grandfather who was a lord of Lindon? And our Lady would never send away one who is in need of help, not even if it meant going against the famous Glorfindel..."

Legolas flushed with hot embarrassment when he realized what Rúmil was talking about.

"It is different, truly! It is not what you think!" he exclaimed, so overcome with shame that he did not even dare to look at Rúmil anymore. "My Lord is not that cruel... There is a reason for those bruises you saw! I... I asked him for it," he admitted shamefully. "Your Lady invited me to look into her Mirror, and what I saw..." Legolas shuddered when he remembered the visions. "I asked him for it - I wanted the trial of pain to help me forget what I saw." He shook his head, smiling bitterly at the next words he whispered. "If your brother thinks the Valar were unkind to your family, he should have seen the visions of what happened to mine."

Rúmil was silent, perhaps shocked by what Legolas had told him. When he finally spoke, his voice was even softer as he hesitantly tried to apologize. "I am sorry, Highness, I did not want to insult you or the Lord Glorfindel... I did not think-"

"No," Legolas said decisively, surprising even himself. "No, do not apologize for that - I am not insulted. I am... it is the first time someone has thought of me!" He laughed in disbelief. "Thank you for your concern – you do not know what it means to me!"

Now Rúmil was the one who was visibly embarrassed. "Certainly I am not the only one who thinks so! I think Glorfindel might find himself the recipient of unpleasant questions very soon, now that so many of our guards have seen the marks on your back, and that after your courageous fight, and me telling them your true age..."

"They would not truly dare to question my Lord, would they?" Legolas asked, suddenly feeling weak. It was bad enough that he had agreed to the fight, but if he were now the reason for people accusing Glorfindel of abusing him...

He closed his eyes, shuddering when he thought of their first meeting by the lake, then quickly forced his thoughts away, remembering instead how Glorfindel had shone and enveloped him in his arms, defending him from his brother.

It did not matter what had happened in the past, for he could not change what had been done. What mattered was what he now knew: that there was love; that from now on, Glorfindel would seek to protect him from all those who would want to hurt him.

Only when they finally walked up the spiraling pathway that led to the talan did the nervousness return. The presence of Rúmil by his side both reassured and embarrassed Legolas, for certainly Glorfindel would not punish him while Rúmil was there to witness his shame - yet on the other hand, Legolas knew that he deserved punishment for his foolishness.

Glorfindel was waiting for them when they entered, calmly sitting on a chair, yet Legolas could see that he was in trouble by the coldness in his eyes.

"My Lord," he said weakly, forgetting all of his carefully planned words at the sight. He rushed to his Lord's side, falling to his knees before him in supplication, and took hold of one of his hands, Rúmil’s cloak slipping from his shoulders to pool on the floor. "Forgive me, please," he whispered guiltily. "I must have worried you... I am so sorry!"

Glorfindel frowned, then raised his eyes to Rúmil who still stood at the door. "Rúmil, is it not? Haldir's brother? What is your role in all of this?"

Rúmil took an audible breath as he stepped closer. "I am here to beg for forgiveness for my brother's actions. I promise you that our Lord will hear of it, and that there shall be consequences." He looked again at Legolas, who still knelt at his Lord's side. Clad only in his slashed robe with his hair a wild tumble of curls with flowers still clinging to them despite the fight, he seemed the very picture of all that was unequal about their relationship.

"It was not Legolas' fault," Rúmil said, visibly uncomfortable. "Everyone who was there has seen how my brother dishonored himself."

Glorfindel reached down to Legolas' hair and the youth flinched, obviously expecting to be pulled up by his hair, but instead Glorfindel just freed a blossom from his tousled tresses and studied it thoughtfully. "I would truly like an explanation for this - first one of my guards arrives with Gîlríon in his arms and tells me that you bore a drawn sword when he left you, and now Rúmil tells me about his brother who dishonored himself?"

"I am sorry, my Lord," Legolas said miserably and bowed his head. "I failed you - I let Haldir provoke me. I met him when I went to search for you with Gîl, but when Haldir taunted me by calling me a maiden, I told him I would show him that I can defend myself."

"So you agreed to a duel," Glorfindel asked, his expression still closed and unreadable.

"Yes, my Lord," Legolas whispered shamefully.

"It is unforgivable that Haldir would act so towards someone who stood before him with a small child in his arms," Rúmil offered. "And worse, he not only made certain that the duel took place in the middle of our training grounds, with everyone watching, but he also intentionally sought to humiliate him by playing with him, although it was apparent to all that the prince was far younger and without any real experience."

"He cut my clothes so I stood before them naked," Legolas admitted softly. "I did not want to fight anymore then. I - I had thought that if I agreed to fight him, he would at least have to see that I am no coward, but in the end, I did not care anymore about winning, or about my honor... I only wanted it to end, so that I could leave."

"He did not win," Rúmil said decisively. "In the eyes of our warriors, Haldir was the one who truly lost, for doing such a thing to one who is still half a child makes Haldir a coward, whereas we all saw Legolas' courage in the way he so bravely stood against him."

"Very well," Glorfindel said slowly. "I will accept this explanation for now, and your apology, Rúmil - although I will have words with Celeborn about this. It cannot be that my Legolas is accosted in the Golden Wood, and while he was carrying our son in his arms, too! Shall I from now on be forced to send guards with him wherever he goes, to protect him from the Galadhrim?"

"I am truly sorry for what my brother did, Lord," Rúmil said, visibly embarrassed. "I promise that our Lord will not let it pass unpunished."

"Yes - I shall make certain of that myself," Glorfindel said darkly. "You may leave now, Rúmil - and thank you for accompanying Legolas back."

"Thank you for your help - and for lending me your cloak," Legolas said with a hesitant smile, getting up to return the garment before Rúmil left. Once the Galadhel had left their talan though, he returned to his place at his Lord's feet, resting his head on Glorfindel’s knee in supplication.

"I am sorry," he whispered once more, and Glorfindel sighed and gently entwined his fingers in Legolas' hair.

"I know, child - you have said it often enough. Still, I am somewhat disappointed with you. Your courage is indeed laudable, but courage is not everything. You need to learn to think before you act - it should have been obvious to you that Haldir would not give you a fair fight."

"I know that now," Legolas said miserably. "But I thought that even if Haldir did not fight honorably, as long as I did so I would be the one who would truly win, no matter what he did to me. Of course I soon realized that I was not that strong... He told me that he would make me cry, and I did cry in the end. I even begged him to let me go, in front of all the warriors, even though I knew that this was exactly what he wanted, to see me humiliated..."

"My poor Legolas," Glorfindel said, and although there was a smile on his face his voice was affectionate as he drew Legolas up to sit on his lap.

Legolas sighed longingly when Glorfindel's lips tenderly touched his brow, but he knew that he was not yet finished with his confessions.

"My Lord, there is something else," he admitted miserably. "When Haldir taunted me... he said that you must like to see me cry, for there could be no other reason why you would want to keep me around. I... it hurt so to hear that." He buried his head against Glorfindel's chest, avoiding his gaze as he continued. "I told him that you keep me with you because you... because you love me. And that I love you, too." Legolas felt tears well up in his eyes once more when he thought about how his Lord must think him vain and childish to boast so in front of all the guards.

"I am sorry!" he sobbed. "I do love you! I did not want to embarrass you!"

He felt Glorfindel's arms tighten around him and he cried helplessly in the security of his lord's embrace, finally quieting again when there were no reproaches but only softly whispered reassurances and kisses pressed to his hair.

"You spoke the truth - why should I be embarrassed about that? No, I am honored to have your love, Legolas! Truly, I am not embarrassed, pen villen. This is my fault for not making it more obvious that any who insult you insult me as well."

Legolas smiled joyfully at his Lord's words and gladly allowed Glorfindel to kiss the tears from his face. "Is Gîl well?" he then asked softly. "He was already half asleep when we chanced upon Haldir, but I know that I nevertheless should have left, if only for his sake - was he much disturbed?"

"No... he is asleep, and like you said, he was too tired to realize what was happening. Still..." and now Glorfindel's voice became stern, "you need to realize that you are responsible for him. His needs must always come before yours as long as he is still so small. You cannot involve him in a fight, Legolas. No matter how you were insulted, you should have thought of him and left."

Legolas nodded miserably. "You call me child, Lord, and I know that is what I am, compared to your years and experience. In truth, I have often thought that I would like to be but a child, with no responsibilities save following your orders. Yet I know that I cannot stay so, if only for Gîl's sake. I am not strong, yet I want to be so for Gîl - for I do not want him to grow up and despise me for my weakness."

"You are not weak," Glorfindel said warmly and sought out Legolas' lips, for a moment losing himself in the sweetness of his mouth. "And you are a wonderful parent to Gîl - he loves you very much and will always do so, as long as you continue to care for him so."

Legolas smiled happily and relaxed in Glorfindel's arms. "I love this... the way you make me feel so safe and cherished," he sighed, then tilted his head back again to offer himself for a kiss. Glorfindel took his mouth slowly but insistently so that Legolas moaned at the way Glorfindel's mastery of him was complete even in something as gentle as this.

"I always only want to be yours," he whispered, his eyes shining, so that Glorfindel laughed and kissed him again.

"Gîl is still asleep... Do you want me to remind you how you are mine now?" he asked, his voice playful, so that Legolas smiled happily and wound his arms around his shoulders. "I will let you choose how you will please me - what do you want, pen villen?"

"Mmmmh... I love the way you feel in my mouth, and I love the way you taste," Legolas teased. "But maybe I should have you take me to bed and make you ravish me so slowly and thoroughly that we will be too exhausted to leave the bed for the rest of the day?"

"I do not think Gîl would be very happy with you in that case, as tempting as it sounds," Glorfindel said dryly, and Legolas laughed.

"I fear that you are right, my Lord... In that case, I will just have to keep you here, in this chair, leaning back while I move on you and work for your pleasure. Would that service please my Lord?"

"Oh, that would please your Lord very much," Glorfindel said hoarsely, his length hardening against Legolas' thigh. "Strip for me then - let me look at what beauty I own!"

With a soft laugh, Legolas slipped from his lap, eager to follow his Lord's orders. He stripped slowly, obviously enjoying Glorfindel's hungry eyes devour his naked body, and although his cheeks still reddened, there was pride rather than shame at his Lord's blatant enjoyment of him.

"I am ready for you, my Lord," he finally whispered mischievously, "from when I readied myself for your use this morning. I dreamed of this all day - every time I prepare myself for you with oil, I tremble at the thought that soon, it will not be my fingers but instead your hardness that will breach me. I know that I am not supposed to feel pleasure at my own touch, but I cannot help but moan and tremble when I imagine you sliding deep into me, taking your pleasure from my body... I love how it teaches me that this is truly what I was made for!"

"Come here," Glorfindel said huskily, his eyes dark, dangerous with arousal. "Do you even know what you are playing with by teasing me? Be careful, Legolas, or you will get burned..."

"Yes... burn me, my Lord," Legolas sighed when he allowed Glorfindel to pull him down, crying out in ecstasy when he was relentlessly forced open around Glorfindel's length.

"Hush, Legolas... I do not think that you want to wake Gîl, do you?" Glorfindel asked, biting back a groan of pleasure himself. "Ai... I would love to tell you how you fit me so perfectly, but that is not true, is it? I am really too big for you - but I love how you are so very tight!"

"And I love how you fill me so completely; I even love the pain of it," Legolas admitted with a moan, the wet gleam in his eyes witness to the truth of his words. Then he remembered that they had to be cautious today and rested his head on Glorfindel's shoulder. He was no longer talking, but now every trembling sigh, every moan and whimper was breathed directly into Glorfindel's ear, quickly driving the Lord wild with desire.

"You wicked little thing!" Glorfindel groaned, taking hold of Legolas' hips to thrust up into him at his own hard pace. "Do you want me to hurt you? Just ask for it - I will be more than glad to teach you your place!"

Legolas whimpered in answer, wrapping his arms around Glorfindel's neck to hold on for dear life. "This was not what I asked for!" he gasped softly, only to be answered by breathless laughter.

"Then do not try to play with me - consider this a warning. Next time it will be your pretty bottom that suffers!" Glorfindel growled, only to have Legolas whimper and tighten around him in answer to his threat.

"But somehow I think you would like that?" Glorfindel asked, ceasing all movement for a moment to properly enjoy the youth's embarrassment. "Mmh, Celeborn was rather congratulatory - have you developed a taste for his admiration, roch neth? Tease me again and I will invite him to show off another set of pretty red stripes on your bottom!"

"Ai... now you are playing with me!" Legolas whimpered, squirming a little in the hope to get Glorfindel to resume his hard thrusts. The Lord laughed throatily but gave in, taking Legolas until he was moaning once more, and this time there were no more words, just the rush of pleasure when they found their release, and a long moment of quiet happiness in each other's arms afterwards.

\---------------  
pen villen - beloved one  
roch neth - colt  
\---------------

46

That same afternoon, after Gîl had had his nap and they had eaten, Glorfindel sat down behind Legolas to brush out his hair, laughing a little at how uncomfortable the wavy hair still made Legolas feel. But despite his gentle teasing, he braided them in the style of a Prince of Mirkwood, pressing a gentle kiss to Legolas' brow when he was finished.

"Very beautiful – truly, they suit you, and more so than your dour-faced brother," Glorfindel praised with a grin. "But now you need appropriate attire to go with... Fetch that tunic of blue brocade, please, and a pair of leggings – oh, and put on your sword as well."

"Are we invited to another dinner this evening, my Lord?" Legolas curiously inquired, but Glorfindel only chuckled and shook his head.

"No, at least not that I know of, although they might yet send word. Now come, hurry and dress... You have plans this afternoon, and it is already late."

Legolas frowned but obediently went to put on his formal clothes, smiling to himself when he caught a glimpse of what he now looked like in the mirror. That was no maiden he saw - it was a Prince who looked back at him.

"What plans do I have, my Lord? Will you not tell me? Certainly you will not send me out to entertain Gîl like this, for I do not think that he will pay consideration to all this finery."

"Indeed, he most probably will not, although he will accompany you – yet you shall not take him to play by the river, or in the trees. It is market day in Caras Galadhon, and now that your old robe has been ruined, you would do well to buy another, or maybe two, if you want to play with Gîl during our visit."

Legolas nodded slowly when he realized that they had indeed not packed clothes for that task. "Shall you not accompany us, my Lord?" he then asked, growing uncertain again. "I do not know where this market is, and..."

He fell silent, lowering his eyes when he did not dare to continue, although he was certain that his Lord had to know what made him so hesitant.

"You need not worry, I have had Celeborn assign a personal guard to you for the remainder of our stay. It was truly the least he could do, after he got news of how one of his Marchwardens treated you. He should be here any moment now..."

"But--" Legolas began to argue, and then there was a knock, interrupting him.

"Ah, that should be your guard... Go and admit him, please." Glorfindel was smiling faintly, and Legolas frowned. He did not understand why he needed a guard now in Lórien of all places, and – if Glorfindel truly insisted – why he could not just have one of their soldiers.

With a little sigh he went and opened the door, for one small moment even entertaining the possibility of having been given Rúmil, who had been so kind to him – but then he saw who awaited him, and he could not quite suppress a gasp.

Haldir stood in the doorway, lazily leaning against one side. Although he did not wear his usual smug expression, when he saw Legolas' reaction, he chuckled softly. "Well met, Prince," he drawled, making clear the title was intended as insult, and smiling a little when Legolas took a dismayed step back.

"There you are, Haldir... I am certain your Lord has already acquainted you with your duties," Glorfindel said coldly. "I shall repeat them for Legolas' sake, and then you can be off."

Glorfindel came forward, resting one arm around Legolas' shoulders, and nodded towards Haldir who Legolas now realised no longer wore his red Marchwarden's cloak, but was instead clad in the simple, grey uniform of a guard of Lothlórien.

"He will be your personal guard for the remainder of our stay in the wood, and has been relieved of his duties as Marchwarden for that period. And should he give you cause to complain, Legolas, do not hesitate to tell me – Celeborn was rather indignant when he heard about how he treated one of his guests, especially as that guest is also a distant cousin, and thus kin to him. If Haldir misbehaves yet again, he shall be permanently demoted to guard. I do not think that old grudges are worth that much to him..."

Legolas nodded dutifully, still unhappy about the prospect of spending time with Haldir, but he did not want to show his misgivings to the Galadhel, who had already seen far too much of his fear.

"Get yourself some simple linen clothes for playing with Gîl," Glorfindel then suggested, turning from Haldir to focus on Legolas once again. "You know how he loves the mud and the river. And do not forget that it will be his begetting day very soon, so if you see something he might like, get that as well. Do not hesitate – you have someone to carry your purchases, after all."

Legolas nodded again, although reluctantly. Glorfindel smiled at that and pulled him into his arms arms to whisper softly into his ear without regard for their audience.

"Get a few things for yourself too – whatever strikes your fancy. I want you to buy so much that everyone in the market will see him trail after you with your purchases in his arms like a servant. He knows his duties, so do not be afraid. This is a punishment, and he is well aware of it. Actually, roch neth, I want you to buy something else as well... Buy something for yourself that you think will please me."

Glorfindel chuckled when Legolas flushed. "Oh, it need not be something outrageous," he said warmly, still whispering, yet Legolas was certain that Haldir knew what they were talking about. "Use your imagination, I am certain that whatever you come up with will please me."

"I will, my Lord," Legolas promised faithfully, knowing that no matter how much he detested Haldir, pleasing his Lord was far more important to him.

"Good," Glorfindel said in satisfaction and kissed Legolas gently, feeling warm pleasure roll through him at the way the youth relaxed against him. When he drew back with a sigh of regret, Legolas was flushed and his eyes were soft, and Glorfindel breathed the words again, loving how they made Legolas sigh and close his eyes.

"Pen villen... Enjoy yourself. That is truly all I ask of you," he said and pressed a kiss to Legolas’ brow, then reluctantly let him go.

"The merchants will know who to send to for remuneration for your purchases, but take this along with you to show who you are." Glorfindel pulled a ring off his finger, and Legolas gasped involuntarily when he saw that it was the heavy signet ring of massive gold bearing the insignia of Glorfindel's House in Gondolin.

"Try it on - I fear it will be too large, but you could always wear it on your thumb," Glorfindel said a little sheepishly, looking doubtfully at Legolas’ slender fingers next to his own large hand.

Legolas took the ring reverently, holding it in his hand for a moment to study it in awe. He remembered Haldir's words, I see no ring on his finger, and smiled when he realised that this was no longer true. Furtively, he glanced at Haldir and saw that although he was trying to look bored, there was a derisive little smile on his lips.

It was not a silver ring of betrothal, no – but what Haldir did not realise was that it did not matter. This was all that Legolas could ever wish for. It was Glorfindel's love and his respect, as well as a sign for everyone to see that no matter what position Legolas had in his bed, he was an equal in all other things.

He smiled when he tried it on, giggling a little when it immediately slipped off his ring finger, and even his middle finger was a little too small.

"You are right, my Lord... My thumb will have to do." It fit perfectly there, and Legolas sighed happily, once more feeling awe at his Lord's trust in him.

"Just do not get Gîl a pony," Glorfindel said with a groan, and Legolas laughed.

"Oh, he is much too young for that, no matter how much he begs... For his next begetting day maybe, if he is very good. I would not get him one of Lórien breed anyway – he needs a robust little thing he can have adventures with, not a meek palfrey."

"Of Mirkwood breed, hmm?" Glorfindel teased, knowing very well Legolas' opinions when it came to horses, and Legolas laughed again.

"That human farmer's ponies you showed me were nice enough," he demurred. "But we have talked of this before – there will be time enough to find something before his next begetting day."

"Get him another toy pony if he does not stop begging," Glorfindel suggested with a grin, then quickly kissed Legolas again before he turned away to fetch their son.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gîlríon had given Haldir an uncertain look, but soon he was happily chattering away once again as Legolas led him down the wooden stairs and pathways after Haldir. The prospect of visiting the market excited Gîl, and Legolas was glad that he had something to distract him from his own excitement.

This would be a new experience for him as well, for while there had been trade with Laketown in Mirkwood, Legolas had never even seen one of the human traders during his childhood in his father's wood. Nor had he ever been to the town itself, to see the stalls there on market day, although he had always listened to the tales told by those who had been there. Wheels of cheese that were almost too heavy for one person to carry, jugs of cool, sweet cream milked from gentle cows, thick loafs of dark, fragrant rye bread as well as sweet little wheat cakes... There were nights as a child during which Legolas had dreamed of walking through the market as a prince, tasting and buying whatever he liked.

Due to the war, there had been no trade with either Imladris or Lothlórien, so Mirkwood lived from what could be found or grown in the forest, or else procured from Laketown. Such trade did not bring human luxuries but bare necessities such as flour, apples, hard cheese and wine, as well as weapons and mail of dwarfish make.

Those traded goods, as well as gathered fruits, game and what vegetables would grow in clearings or in the shadow of the trees, were stored in Thranduil’s vast caves, and rations given out by the King’s butler. Meals were served at the common table, and during Legolas’ time as a horse guard, they had prepared and shared simple meals of the rations that were delivered to them.

He had always been given the things that he needed, such as clothes and writing tools for his lessons, but he never knew the luxuries and gifts that his brothers had known as children. Even when he had dreamed of visiting the Laketown market as a child, he had known that his wish would never come true – and even if it had, he would have had nothing to give the merchants in exchange for their wares.

It was different in Rivendell. There as well their meals were provided for at the Lord's table, or if they were busy or otherwise inclined, they could send for a private dinner to be brought to their rooms. Glorfindel had his own private supply of his favourite wines and cordials, and Legolas knew that many of the guards would buy additional luxuries from the farmers or traders who came to visit Rivendell with their wares.

Glorfindel had given him many gifts – beautiful robes and tunics made of silk and velvet, jewelry, books, his beloved sword – but it had always been Glorfindel who made those purchases. With Glorfindel, Legolas wanted for nothing, but only now that he thought about it did he realise that he owned nothing apart from what Glorfindel had given him. He had no means to make purchases of his own. He had never felt the lack of it, for he had been thus dependent on others since his birth, and Glorfindel truly gave him everything he wanted. Yet now that he had been given the chance to visit the market on his own and buy whatever he wanted without having to ask his Lord for it, it felt like a completely new kind of freedom to him – one that made him into an adult, and not a child.

Legolas glanced at the ring he wore once more, unable to keep himself from admiring it every few steps. When he looked up again, he saw that Haldir had caught him at it, and he blushed.

Haldir's lips twitched with amusement. "Being a rich Lord's, ahh... companion has many amenities," he said, and Legolas looked down again, hurt by the words despite what he had been telling himself. In a way, Haldir was of course right. This was no true independence, for the means to make purchases still belonged to Glorfindel. Yet Glorfindel had told him to buy whatever he wanted and given him the ring of his House... It might not be a ring of betrothal or of marriage, yet in this respect, the ring granted him the same rights as a spouse.

No, Haldir was wrong... Glorfindel did not think of him as a mistress he kept with expensive gifts of clothes and jewelry, even if others might construe his actions so. Legolas remembered the oath Glorfindel had taken and smiled. One day in the future when their days on these shores would come to an end, Glorfindel would take them over the sea and show them the land of his birth, wondrous Valinor, where they would know nothing but peace and happiness.

Glorfindel would not do that for a mistress, nor for a slave he kept to warm his bed. He would do that for the one whom he loved above all others.

"My Lord's love is worth more to me than anything that could be bought by gold," Legolas said calmly, refusing to rise to Haldir's bait, "but I fear our Gîl would much rather have yet another toy horse."

"A white one, ada!" Gîlríon immediately chimed up, "like atto's! Can I really have one?"

Legolas laughed. "If there is one, you will get it," he said indulgently. "But I have never been there before, I do not know what we will find there, so do not be disappointed if there are no toy horses to be found."

"There are at least two merchants I know of who sell toys for children," Haldir interjected. "You shall find a white horse there – and black, brown and red ones as well, I would guess." He turned away, but then chuckled and waited a moment longer. "If you want to bring your lord a toy as well, Prince, I shall point out another merchant for you... He has lovely gear for young, willful horses that need to be broken in. Whips and reins of the most beautiful leather..."

He smirked and looked Legolas up and down while the youth swallowed and cursed himself for the heat that warmed his cheeks. "Yes, black leather would be lovely," Haldir said suggestively, then turned to lead them along a well-traveled path into a different part of Caras Galadhon.

\-------------------  
roch neth - colt  
pen villen - beloved one  
\-------------------

  
47

The market was everything Legolas had expected, and more. There were silver-haired Galadhrim everywhere, clad in elegant, light robes and tunics of linen and silk. Several guards walked around in the characteristic grey uniform, and with surprise Legolas realized that a good number of the customers at the stalls were female. Several of them had a child or two with them, and Gîlríon grew excited when he saw a few his own age.

Lórien society was truly not so different from Mirkwood, it seemed to Legolas, who had grown up in a realm where most of the inhabitants lived together in a cave and the surrounding trees - or, in this case, in a city.

Imladris was different, though. The Last Homely House was widely renowned as a home of learning and lore, and Elrond's halls were walked by scholars, warriors, servants and the many guests. Yet there were only a few families, for many of the young elves recently wedded preferred life in one of the many rural settlements that were scattered around Imladris. During their younger years, children would then be taught by their parents or other family members, coming to live in Imladris later on only for more specialized instruction, as well as weapons training.

Thus, Gîlríon did not truly have any playmates, and although Legolas would have wished such for him, he and Glorfindel – or in some cases, the nursemaid – were always available to play with him, and Gîlríon seemed happy enough.

Also, Legolas knew well enough what being ostracized meant, and although Gîl was heir to one revered as a hero in all the Elven realms, he had also been born to a male... something not many adults could understand, and certainly children would be even less forgiving of that fact.

Legolas sighed and then shook his head at himself, a little surprised at how heavy his thoughts were when right now something that felt like an entirely new world was open to him.

Market day in Lothlórien, he saw when they walked around a huge, old mallorn, took place in a clearing that was known as the Artisan's Glade. The large mellyrn that surrounded the clearing held many workshops; there were two smithies on the ground between the trees' roots and a multitude of shops on telain that were connected to the ground by a twisting net of pathways and stairs. On market day, many of the shop owners, as well as farmers, bakers and other merchants, would set up stalls in the middle of the clearing, and transform the entire area into a scene of merry excitement.

Legolas’ own excitement grew when the glade came into view, and he was more than glad for the presence of Gîl behind whose wide-eyed wonder he could hide his own feelings. He felt strangely shy and overwhelmed by all that was offered here, and he did not think that he would have purchased anything quickly if it had not been for his son.

"Look, ada!" Gîl exclaimed, pointing towards a stall that sold small nut cakes glazed with honey. "Can I have one?"

"Hungry already?" Legolas laughed but nodded indulgently, realizing that Glorfindel had done well to warn him about the pony – how would he ever be able to deny Gîlríon when he was just as excited about this excursion as his child? "Of course you can."

He bought two of the little cakes, once again glad to have Gîl as an excuse for indulging his own childlike excitement. It was as if that first purchase had broken a dam - suddenly he realized that he could indeed have anything he desired here, and moreso, that Glorfindel had almost ordered him to.

He started with what was sensible - simple, dark clothes of linen, so he would not ruin any more garments when he played with Gîl. Then he bought clothes for his son as well, remembering that already, most of his leggings were in need of mending. The clothes alone already made for a heavy parcel for Haldir to carry, and Legolas had to suppress the urge to openly laugh at how annoyed his new guard looked.

Legolas bought more of the small cakes, thinking it would be nice to share them with Glorfindel on their return, and then remembered that his Lord had asked him to find something for Gîl's begetting day. With that thought in mind, he turned towards Haldir to ask him for the stand of children's toys he had promised him, but before he could speak, Haldir nodded towards another shop at the feet of one of the large mellyrn.

"There... I think you will enjoy the Master Saddler's creations. Truly exquisite work, as your Lord can avouch. Everything one could possibly need to break a wild little horse to one's touch..."

Legolas swallowed, but Haldir's words awoke an undeniable curiosity within him. It was really irresistible, especially Haldir's words about Glorfindel valuing this particular shop - he wanted to make Glorfindel happy, and to maybe also surprise him, and so he found himself following Haldir, feeling apprehensive as well as strangely excited.

"Come in, come in... I have lots more for you to look at here!" the owner of the shop exclaimed as soon as he saw them looking at his goods outside, quickly ushering them into his shop. "Haldir! So good to see you! Are you looking for something special for your young friend here?"

Legolas froze, mortified at being taken for one of Haldir's lovers, while the guard chuckled in delight.

"I am just his guard, showing him around... assisting him in his purchases," Haldir said, then laughed. "Lord Glorfindel is an admirer of your workmanship, is he not? If you are looking for a present for your Lord, Prince, I can assure you that he has always been delighted with what this particular shop has to offer."

Legolas swallowed and looked around, once more feeling out of his depth. "Thank you, but... we brought some additional tack with us. I do not think Asfaloth is in need of any new reins..."

Now it was the merchant who chuckled. "Ah, you are the young Prince then - Lord Glorfindel is indeed a cherished costumer. I think I can promise you that anything bought here will meet with his approval. Let me show you a few different kinds of reins which I produce for chosen costumers. I have them in that room over there, if you will follow me?"

Legolas swallowed, feeling weak when he realized just what the merchant was selling. "I... no, I cannot. I cannot leave Gîl alone here," he said helplessly, but at his words the merchant looked towards where Gîl was looking at a stack of halters.

"Glorfindel's son?" he exclaimed. "Oh, and looking so very much like his sire! I will look after him if you like - Haldir, please show the Prince around, I daresay you know my goods as well as I do."

Haldir smirked when Legolas looked at him, leaving the youth feeling flustered and uncertain. But he most definitely did not want Gîl to ask any embarrassing questions about whatever it was that could be bought in the other room...

"I have a bay mare, you can help Gîl choose a halter for her," he offered, uncertain whether it was the right choice to leave his son with the merchant - but he did not want to look like a coward to Haldir. "If you know my Lord's stallion, she wears a size smaller."

Gîl’s delighted cry at the news made him smile, and so he left his son in the company of the saddler to see for himself just what it was that was offered here to chosen customers.

He followed Haldir up a small stair which led them first into what seemed to be the Master's work area and, behind that, a small back room that was filled with the scent of new leather. Legolas frowned as he looked around. Many of the things his eyes fell upon did not look all that different to horse tack, although there were also other instruments and constructions where Legolas could not even imagine how those might be used, or what for. Then he found something where he could imagine the use of it very well, and he blushed as he took a step closer, driven by a curiosity that was too strong to ignore.

Crops and whips and floggers...

With shaking hands, Legolas touched a handle of smooth, dark leather, his cheeks hot with shame as he was certain that Haldir had to be able to see his embarrassment.

There was no reason to be embarrassed, he tried to tell himself, for after all Haldir not only already knew of his Lord's proclivities, but also indulged in even darker games, from what he had gathered.

"A good choice," Haldir's smooth voice interrupted his thoughts, and Legolas trembled when he felt Haldir's body press against his back as the guard came to stand behind him. Haldir was far too close, and his breath teased against his ear so that Legolas felt he would either have to sigh or run from the terrible intimacy of this situation.

Yet he did neither, for now Haldir's arms came around him, his hands covering Legolas' in a warm, tight grip, and Legolas closed his eyes, hating himself for not being courageous enough to put a stop to it.

Why was he so weak? Any other would have pushed Haldir away, but he felt frozen, unable to react to what was being done to him. His heart beat faster and faster in his chest and he knew that his cheeks had to be blazing with color, and yet all he could do was to desperately hope that Haldir would stop.

"Why do you tremble so, Prince?" Haldir murmured, his voice almost soothing, and Legolas bit his lip to stop himself from begging.

Please do not hurt me...

He remembered then how it had been that day so long ago in Imladris, what Haldir had done to his brother, what they would have done to him, and suddenly he wondered if the threat of demotion would be enough to stop Haldir from taking revenge.

"See how beautifully worked it is, the leather so smooth... see how heavy the strands fall. Can you imagine how this will feel? Each hit will vibrate through your entire body, more than just pain, oh, so much more than that... You would cry out for your master, give him your tears and your surrender, and you would love it," Haldir said decisively, and Legolas shivered against him.

"Of course, there is so much more you could do with this," Haldir whispered and made Legolas' hands slide up and down the thick handle in a suggestive motion. "Mmh, do you want to know what I see? A beautiful slave on his knees before me... a little pet, sweet and obedient and longing only to please its Master. The handle is so long and smooth - with some oil I think I might very well penetrate my pet with it. Can you see it, Prince? My pet would be on his hands and knees, his back perfectly straight because he knows what punishment would await him if he displeases me - although I think his back would already be decorated with red welts, just because I felt like it. He would whimper a little and his eyes would gleam with tears when he looks at me, because it feels so big inside him, stretching him to the point of soreness, but he would never even think of pleading, because he knows I would not show him any mercy."

Haldir groaned, then smiled against Legolas' throat, and this time the youth could not hold back a little whimper.

"I think I would make him use his mouth to serve me then," Haldir whispered confidentially into his ear. "He would move his hips so prettily, so that the flogger keeps rubbing that spot inside him, and whimper while I fill his sweet mouth with my hard length, almost choking him - and I would smile at the picture he makes, the leather strands swishing against his thighs like a tail while I make him work hard for my pleasure."

"No..." Legolas said helplessly, and Haldir chuckled.

"No? That is what I would do with it, but of course your Lord might have different ideas. Certainly it is no toy for a maiden - but as I have never desired one, I fear that I do not know how you would play with one. Maybe the Master Saddler would know?"

Legolas' fingers clenched around the flogger when Haldir finally stepped back. He felt weak, trembling with relief at being released, although now once again the terrible shame returned when he thought about how he let Haldir treat him.

He was glad for the reprieve when Haldir wandered over to the other side of the room, studying what looked like leather manacles.

Legolas sighed very softly and then returned the flogger to its place. He felt out of place now and realized that he should never have come here alone with Haldir. The very nature of the goods that were offered here made the situation far too intimate. He did not want to know what Haldir would do to a lover, any more than he wanted him to know what kind of games his Lord played with him.

Yet it seemed that at least for now, Haldir was inclined to grant him a moment's peace - maybe to properly enjoy how flustered Legolas had become, how he had not even dared to protest.

Legolas was grateful for the silence nevertheless. Morosely he looked around the room, wondering if he could just leave right now, or if that would yet again be cowardice. Almost he had decided to just leave, even if it would be flight, when his eyes fell onto a mirror. His eyes widened in shock at what he saw - not Legolas the coward, but Legolas the prince. He did not look weak... His very garb commanded respect, as did the braids in his hair.

And there was the ring of gold on his finger, gleaming brightly in the light...

He smiled all of a sudden, being reminded of Glorfindel's trust, and his love. He would not let Haldir talk to him so again, he decided. He might not have strength for himself, but he would draw from Glorfindel's strength. He would make certain that Gîl never thought him weak.

He turned towards Haldir, holding himself straight to meet him as an equal, but just then the door opened and a group of Silvan elves spilled in. There were only four or five of them, but the small room afforded barely enough space for them all. Merrily they called out to Haldir, greeting him as a friend, and at once Legolas knew that this was his chance to show the guard that he was no weak victim to be played with. This was his chance for revenge.

"Do not forget the nature of your service to me, Haldir," Legolas called out with what he hoped was an arrogant smile, although his heart fluttered in his chest and he wondered at this potential for malice in himself. "Get that flogger I liked, the black leather one, and then come find me - and do not forget to bring my other purchases along. I shall be at the stall we saw before, where they sell massage oils."

Legolas forced himself to walk slowly and regally towards the door, aware of what he looked like in his princely finery and taking strength from the thought, as well as in the giggles that broke out behind him. "Oh, and pick up a few more things; I will allow you to choose. Select some for rewards, and some... for punishment."

Then he fled the room, hearing loud laughter and teasing remarks from Haldir's friends behind him, and the guard's voice becoming ever louder with angry denials.

  
48

Legolas was breathless, disbelief at what he had done warring inside him with a strange giddiness at for once having the upper hand.

Oh, it would have consequences – certainly Haldir would never let it rest now; but for this one moment, Legolas did not care.

Gîlríon was still where he had been left with the merchant, and as soon as he saw his father, he called out for his ada to come look at what he had chosen. Dutifully, Legolas praised the halter – light brown leather with etchings of leaves for decoration, which must have been why Gîl had picked it – and then lifted him to hold him close for a moment, sighing softly when he told himself that this was a happiness Haldir would never be able to take from him. Never become like me, Gîl, he thought, then slightly shook his head, surprised at the dark turn his thoughts had taken.

"Haldir should be back down in a few moments with more purchases. Would you wrap this up together with them?" he asked the merchant and handed him the halter at his ready nod.

"Certainly, Prince. If there is anything more you need, you can return whenever you like, even if it is not market day – and you, little one, come back once you get your pony. I'm certain we'll find another nice halter for you," the merchant said and winked at Gîl, who beamed in delight at the reminder that soon he would get a pony of his own.

Legolas kept Gîl in his arms for a part of the way, allowing the reassuring, excited chatter to wash over him. Gîl was happy, there could be no doubt about that, Legolas thought and pressed a kiss to his son's crown. That, at least, seemed to be one thing he was good at – and so in the end, did it truly matter if he never became a great warrior like Glorfindel, like his brother – like his father?

That was what he had dreamed of for as long as he could remember. With an unfocused optimism he had imagined some point in the future when he was an adult, leading the life everyone else was leading – having friends, a family, a position among his father's soldiers. That was the way life went for everyone else, and although he had been painfully aware of his own shortcomings, he had been able to make himself believe that in time he would grow out of his shyness, his insecurities, and become just like all the other elves around him.

That had been only a dream, he told himself now. It would never happen – his fears would not leave simply because he grew older. He was not his brother, he was not Glorfindel, and he would never be like his father.

But there was happiness in what he had now. He had Gîl, whom he loved more than anything else, and he had Glorfindel, who loved him despite all of his flaws. Maybe he would never be a warrior, and maybe he would always be an outcast, without friends – but he had a family now, and was that not already more than he deserved?

"Let me down, ada!" Gîl finally demanded and squirmed in his arms, so that Legolas had to release him, his thoughts turning lighter almost immediately at his son's exuberance.

"You will get your toy horse now," he promised with a smile. "We just have to wait for Haldir to return, so that he can show us the way. He will be grumbly, because he has a lot to carry for me."

Gîlríon giggled a little at his words, but he was so excited at the prospect of the toys waiting for him that he could barely keep still while Legolas perused the offered oils and herbal infusions to distract himself from his thoughts about Haldir. The vendor, a maiden not far from his own age, tried to engage him in conversation, but Legolas' cheeks were still flushed with embarrassment, and in the end he wound up with a small phial of rare mallorn blossom oil – more to silence the girl than because they were in need of it.

Still, the thought of slowly rubbing the fragrant liquid into his Lord's skin made him smile – the scent of golden blossoms for his golden Lord. It seemed strangely appropriate, and although earlier he had worried about whether his purchases would please Glorfindel, he now felt certain that, although perhaps not very imaginative, it was something his Lord would very much enjoy.

His smile vanished once he saw Haldir striding towards them, his arms full of all the things he had purchased earlier. For a moment Legolas paled when he imagined his Lord unwrapping whatever it was Haldir had chosen for him – would his Lord be displeased at how he had once again let the guard provoke him?

Legolas doubted it. If anything, Glorfindel would take great pleasure in teasing him about whatever kinds of torturous devices laid well hidden in the package – but still Legolas felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment at the mere thought.

He swallowed, then faltered when Haldir came close enough so that he could see the cold anger on his face. For a moment, Legolas felt words of apology forming, but then he bit his lips and forced them away, concentrating instead on the resentment that had been growing in him ever since Haldir had humiliated him so in front of the guards.

He might be no great warrior, but he would not give Haldir an apology either – he was not that weak!

The guard gave him a cold smile, as if he had read his thoughts, and Legolas tried to suppress a shudder.

"We are finished here – lead us to the toys now, please," he asked with forced politeness. It earned himself another dangerous flash of temper in Haldir's eyes, but then the guard wordlessly turned, marching away from them so briskly that Legolas had to gather Gîlríon up into his arms to keep up with him.

Legolas felt shaken, still not quite able to believe his own courage, and tried to keep from meeting Haldir's cold eyes lest he flush again with embarrassment at what he had allowed Haldir to do. Yet for the time being, the guard was silent, and when they reached the stall with children's toys, he allowed Gîlríon's infectious excitement to distract him.

Gîlríon did indeed find his white horse there which he immediately clutched to his chest and called Asfaloth. Legolas watched him silently from behind a shelf for a moment, trying to find out if there was anything else he would like to have so they could get it for his begetting day, and found himself nodding in agreement when someone nudged him towards a brown horse which Gîl had been eyeing covetously. "Of course – Lainiell!" Legolas exclaimed softly, shaking his head with a smile, but then he swallowed and froze as he realized that it was Haldir who was now whispering into his ear.

"Just like his father, don't you agree? Obsessed with little horses... roch neth."

"Don't call me that!" Legolas said indignantly as he turned around, his eyes wide and hurt at having this most intimate detail of their relationship used as a weapon against him.

"But is that not who you are?" Haldir continued, still standing far too close so that Legolas had to swallow against the rising panic. He wanted to move away, but the wood of the shelf was already pressed against his back so that he could not escape unless Haldir moved to release him.

"I am... No! That is not for you!" Legolas cried softly, remembering all the other things people had told him he was. It was not true! He was Legolas, just Legolas… weak, frightened, submissive Legolas maybe, but still neither slut nor whore nor traitor!

"I am his, nothing more – oh please, stop!" he begged, his voice breaking at the thought that Gîl would see him like this.

"How he must cherish you," Haldir murmured intimately, his breath continuing to tease against his ear. "Did he break you so well, or are you truly just so naturally obedient?"

"Please, I – Gîl!" Legolas whispered urgently, blinking rapidly against the threatening tears. "Please, stop! I will apologize, Haldir – anything, just don't–"

"Yes," Haldir breathed in satisfaction. "I like to hear you pleading... Apologize, little prince, and I might let you go."

Humiliation burned in him like a fire, heating his cheeks and curling in his belly until he felt sick with it. He heard his own voice coming as if from a stranger, rough with suppressed tears as he was forced to humble himself by begging one who hated him for forgiveness.

"Good," Haldir said, his voice deceptively warm and gentle, and Legolas sobbed softly when Haldir pulled him close, kissing his tears from his cheeks in a mockery of Glorfindel’s tender affection.

"Don't forget your place again, sweet little prince, and we might even become friends in time."

"Yes, Haldir," Legolas said meekly, trembling when Haldir finally took a step back, then turned and went to get Gîl and his horse.

Legolas wiped his face. He felt weak with shame, and numb – Haldir had indeed reminded him of his position, and shown him in the most cruel fashion that all of his dreams were truly just dreams. He would never be like others, confident and accepted. He would always only be Glorfindel's roch neth, and while it was something that had come to mean pleasure and great joy, he still had not quite been able to stop himself from dreaming of having more.

Surreptitiously, he tried to wipe the tears from his face, forcing himself to smile when Haldir returned with Gîl. Yet his child's attention was still focused completely on the toy in his arms, and Legolas felt glad that at least he would not be upsetting Gîl.

Still he felt subdued now and empty inside, as if all happiness had faded away to leave an aching hole inside him. When he hesitantly suggested that it might be time they returned, Gîl had given him a look of such disappointment that Legolas could not bring himself to insist on it, and so he followed silently while Haldir led them towards a place where they would be able to buy food and drinks.

Gîlríon immediately began to let Asfaloth gallop across the table of rough wooden planks, and Legolas breathed a sigh of relief when Haldir left them for a moment to get them their food and a pitcher of water. Shame and humiliation were still twisting in his stomach, and he did not think that he could actually eat anything, but he was glad for every minute spent out of Haldir's presence.

He sat close to Gîl, wishing he could just pull him up onto his lap and hold him tight, but that would just make his child realize that something was not right. He had to be content to let the warmth of the small body and the excited chattering distract him, although his thoughts were still filled with guilt and shame as he kept remembering just how Haldir had humiliated him.

They ate mostly in silence, except for Gîlríon who kept talking with his toy Asfaloth as if it were a real horse, and even if Legolas still did not dare to raise his eyes from fear of what he would see on Haldir’s face, it made him smile a little.

A short while later, Haldir stood, not only to return their empty plates, but also to let the serving maid fawn over him some more, Legolas realized with a frown as he watched the guard lean against the counter with practiced carelessness. He shook his head slightly, feeling glad that soon he would be rid of Haldir's hated presence, although he already wondered how he would explain to his Lord that what should have been an uplifting experience had only served to darken his mood.

"Oh, look what we have here... The little traitor, basking in his Noldorin master's fame," a voice said behind him in a staged whisper that made him flinch. Even before he turned around he knew from whom the voice came. It was not the voice of his brother, but there was no mistaking the Silvan accent. It was a distinctive manner of speech which had developed over centuries in the isolated forest of Greenwood the Great, and when Legolas did turn around, his cheeks once again burning with embarrassment at the abuse that he knew would be heaped on him, he saw three elves of Mirkwood, wearing the green and brown garb of his father's soldiers.

These soldiers had to belong to the group of guards that Galuron had brought with him, Legolas thought with growing despair. As if being humiliated by Haldir was not enough, would he have to live through more abuse now? Haldir at least had been generous enough to keep Gîlríon out of it – but he did not think that these would.

49

“Are you too good now to talk to us?” One of the guards snorted and came closer, and Legolas automatically flinched away.

“You can use his gold and let him dress you in silks and velvets, but it will never change what you really are!”

Little whore, Legolas’ mind supplied as he looked fearfully up at the soldiers. That was what they were thinking… Had he not heard it all before from his brother? But then, Glorfindel had been there to protect him, as had the Lady and Lord of Lothlórien. Now, though, he was all alone…

“Ada?” Gîlríon asked uncertainly, and Legolas felt the tiny hand slip into his own, larger one. He forced himself to smile as he turned back to look at his son, and drew him against his body for a moment to hold him close. “Do you see Haldir over there?” he asked softly, motioning towards where their guard was still teasing the giggling serving maid. “Go to him and help him… I will return to you in a moment. Can you do that for me, Gîl?”

“Yes, ada,” Gîlríon said obediently, although the frightened look he gave the guards was enough to make Legolas feel cold with shame and dread. In the end, it did not matter what they said or did to him, but he could not bear the thought of Gîlríon being made to suffer for who his father was, and what he had done.

“So that is the bastard that Noldo got on you?” the guard enquired once the child had run off, and the other two chuckled when Legolas flinched.

In that moment, Legolas wished he could die. To hear them talk so about Gîl hit him with a pain unlike anything he had felt before, and it was only made worse by the fact that there was nothing he could say against it, for it was the truth. Gîl was a bastard…

Glorfindel had named him his heir and loved him so fiercely that sometimes, watching them together was painful in how it showed what growing up should have been like for himself, but all of that did not change the fact that they had not been wedded when Glorfindel first took him, and that there was still no ring on his finger.

“Please, leave my child out of it,” Legolas pleaded helplessly. “He is far too young to understand any of this!”

“Too young to understand that his ada is a little whore who betrayed both father and kingdom for the gold and protection of a Noldo?” the guard asked and snorted. “Oh, but do not fear, Legolas, I do not care about your little bastard. I was just wondering if what you got out of it was worth betraying your kingdom and your family for.”

“If it is Glorfindel’s cock you betrayed us all for, you could have saved yourself much trouble. It might have taken you some time to work your way through your father’s army, but I think in the end you would have found someone big enough to satisfy even a slut like you.”

A first tear escaped Legolas at their cruel words, but they were not yet finished with him – instead, it seemed that his anguish only made it worse.

“Ahh, but did you not hear yesterday's gossip?” the third guard interrupted. “By now the entire forest knows about how Haldir dealt him a lesson, and stripped him for all to see just what a pretty little thing the Noldo has warming his bed. And how he keeps him pliant and pleasing with a strict hand… Tell us, Legolas, do you need that? We know that he hits you, that he lets you feel the whip – do you cry then as well? Or do you beg for more?”

“Just look at him,” the guard closest to Legolas said derisively. “Of course he begs for more! You really should have said so sooner, Legolas. The King would just have denied you as a son, but we would have found a place for you despite all. I would have done it myself - given you a good whipping until you knew your place and would bend over for anyone at my command… I usually prefer a spirited lover, but teaching you how to use your body to please those above you would have been a nice diversion.”

Legolas slowly shook his head in shock, swallowing against the tears. He had never been popular, and these guards were Galuron’s friends, but still their hatred was almost more than he could bear. What had he done to deserve this? Why would nobody see how hard it had been to do what he had done? That he had done it all for Gîl?

“Do you suck his cock?” the one who had stepped around Legolas to press threateningly against his back enquired, and the others laughed when Legolas gasped in shock at such crudeness. “Do you enjoy it, too? I am certain that you do.” The soldier’s hand came up to stroke over the richly embroidered brocade across his chest, so that Legolas made a startled sound and tried to move away, but now the other two had moved in and trapped him between their bodies.

“Of course he enjoys it, how else do you think someone like him would pay for what he wears on his body?”

They laughed again, and Legolas shook his head, his eyes wide and burning with tears. He had been prepared for their hostility, but he did not know what to do in the face of such cruelty. He knew how to hide, how to make himself seem unobtrusive, but Glorfindel had given him beautiful, rich clothes that made him stand out in any crowd, and now that he had drawn their attention, it was too late to hide.

“Do you feel no shame, whore? Strutting around freely to show off your master’s gold, although everyone knows that you have earned all of this on your back?”

“Stop this! Do not touch me!” Legolas finally cried out, panicking when he tried to push against the chest of the guard in front of him and found that he would not move. “You know nothing about me!”

“We know that you betrayed your own father and King for a Noldo, and we will not forget!” one of them hissed, and Legolas shivered in fear when he realised that they had trapped him, and that he never would be able to break free of his own strength. “It is because of you that we are here – because of you that our Prince is a hostage, instead of being back home with his family and his friends!”

“What do you want from me? My father sent me away, and I left the realm as I was told! You cannot fault me for that! I had a child to think of! What else was I to do?” Again Legolas tried to push their hands away, hating himself for his tears, hating himself for being weaker than they were.

“I am no longer his son! I am no Prince! I am Glorfindel’s, just that, nothing more, so leave me alone!” he cried again, trembling with shame at how pathetic he sounded. He could see the hate in their eyes and it scared him, although he still clung to the hope that the publicness of the marketplace would keep them from going any further. But then one of the guards pulled a knife from his belt, and for a moment his heart stopped.

He thought of Glorfindel, and he thought of Gîl, and then, strangest of all, he thought of his father. Would he grieve at all, thinking of his youngest, fallen at the hands of one of his own soldiers in a far-away country… or would he be glad that finally, that youngest son could no longer shame him with his weakness?

One last time, he tried to escape, but their strong bodies would not budge. Suddenly there was a hand in his hair, pulling so roughly that tears pooled in his eyes and he cried out from the sharp pain, and then the glint of the polished steel blade blinded him. He closed his eyes, denying them the pleasure of seeing his fear and pain, and prayed that Gîl would not be watching.

His head was pulled further back by his hair, yet it took him a long moment until he realized that the sharp blade was not resting against his throat. He opened his eyes again, and when he saw what it was they wanted to do, he cried out in fear.

One of them held the blade to his hair, which another had twisted into a rough ponytail, threatening to cut it off, so that Legolas gasped and tried to escape once again. But he could not break free, and the sharp pain when they tugged on his hair made hot tears spill from his eyes.

"Don't! Oh, please don't!" he begged in horror, thinking about what Glorfindel would say, who had so often praised his beauty.

"Afraid your master will send you away if you are no longer the pretty little whore that followed him out of Mirkwood?" one of them murmured, and the others laughed when Legolas sobbed in humiliation and fear.

"You do not deserve to wear these... It makes me sick to even look at you, flaunting our braids! You are no royalty! Take one step into Mirkwood again and see how far these braids will take you!"

Legolas moaned in despair when one of the royal braids Glorfindel had insisted on was given a particularly vicious yank. "I will take them out! There is no need to do this! Please!" he begged, only wishing now to escape, but they just laughed at his pleading. Then, suddenly, they fell silent, and Legolas continued to sob softly for a moment until he realized that they had stopped playing with him.

When he looked up, he found himself staring directly at Haldir – and the guard was furious. His sword was pointed directly at one Sinda's heart, who now slowly let go of Legolas' hair while the other lowered his blade, all of them stepping back to release the youth.

Haldir kept his sword pointed at them for a long moment, but then reached out towards where Legolas still stood between them, trembling from shock and uncertainty. With his left arm he pulled the youth back against his chest, the suddenness of it making Legolas cry out again, but when Haldir kept his arm tightly around him, he finally relaxed, feeling so weak with relief that he feared he would faint.

"Steady, your Highness," Haldir said softly, yet loud enough so that the guards would hear. "Forgive me, I should not have left you even for a moment, but I did not know there were such ruffians about. What a disgrace," he added, louder now to make it obvious he was addressing the Sindar, "attacking an unarmed youth who had his small son with him, and both esteemed guests of our Lord and Lady too! They shall hear of what has transpired today, and I would not be surprised if our Sindarin guests lose some of their rights, until they have learned to behave as civilized people do!"

"Thank you, Haldir," Legolas said weakly, resting his forehead against the guard's strong chest, unable to move for the moment, although his brother's guards were probably laughing at his weakness yet again.

"Yes, thank you, Haldir," one of the guards mockingly repeated. "It would have been foolish to dirty our hands with that one anyway, although we would have been certain of his father's thanks at least. Make certain that the little whore is properly grateful, though – losing your pretty red cloak should be worth more than just a quick tumble with someone as well-used as that one."

"If I see even one of you anywhere in the vicinity of this glade in five minutes, I will ensure that the market is closed to you for the remainder of your long stay," Haldir threatened coldly. "And you know that I can do that, pretty red cloak or no – so off with you."

There were no more threats after that, although Legolas continued to tremble in Haldir's arms even after they finally left with scowls on their faces.

"Are you well, little prince? Did they hurt you?" Haldir asked, and the rumble of his voice deep in his chest reminded Legolas of Glorfindel, so that he pressed himself more tightly against him for a moment.

"I thought that they would kill me," he finally whispered, still shocked. "I thought that I was going to die!" Again he sobbed softly when he remembered how he had thought that he would never see Glorfindel again.

"And Gîl... is he safe? Did he... did he see?"

"Shhh... calm down, little prince," Haldir said, and his voice was deep and soothing so that even the hated epithet seemed affectionate rather than mocking. "I left Gîl with the serving maid as soon as I saw that there was trouble. Do not worry, she is a neighbor – she adores children and promised him to let him taste his way through all the desserts the cook can make. He did not see anything, and I think she will be able to keep him distracted for half an hour at least. You have time to calm yourself before we have to return for him..."

Legolas sighed in relief and closed his eyes, sinking further against Haldir when his knees grew weak, now that the danger was gone. He did not even protest when he felt the guard lift him up and carry him away as if he were a child – in truth, he doubted that he could have walked on his own. But Haldir did not carry him far. When he was let down, Legolas opened his eyes again and saw that Haldir had taken him to the border of the glade, where bushes hid them from the curious eyes of others.

"Thank you," Legolas said softly, stiffening when Haldir pulled him onto his lap again after he had sat down as well, but then relaxing when he remembered how the guard had saved him. He sighed, still trembling a little, but Haldir's physical presence calmed him. "Why are you being so nice to me?" he asked finally, blushing a little at how naïve the question sounded, but needing to know all the same.

Haldir laughed in answer and shook his head. "I am not nice," he said and snorted, as if it had been an insult. "And I am your guard, after all. If there is anyone who is allowed to torment you, it is me, and certainly not the likes of them. Also, I am hardly doing this out of the goodness of my heart – I just want to see you be grateful, sweet prince."

"Grateful?" Legolas echoed, then smiled hesitantly. "I really am, Haldir, thank you so much! I will never forget-"

"Oh no, little prince. Did I not just save the beautiful maiden from a bunch of ruffians? I think that is traditionally rewarded with a kiss," Haldir drawled, his fingers slowly creeping up Legolas' back under his tunic, caressing the smooth skin so that the youth began to tremble again.

"I am no maiden," Legolas protested, but still he smiled and moved forward to shyly press his lips to Haldir's cheek, blushing at what he was doing.

"Valar, you are too sweet for words!" Haldir groaned. "But that was no kiss, little prince... Let me teach you!"

He held Legolas' chin in a firm grip and then swept in to take the kiss he wanted, overwhelming Legolas with his strength and passion so that the youth gave in to him with a soft moan of surrender before he even realised what was happening. For one moment, Legolas melted into his embrace, his submission an ingrained reflex at being handled so, but then a muffled squeak escaped him and he pushed Haldir back, staring at him in indignation when the guard chuckled.

"That is a kiss... and truly, you are so very sweet!" Haldir enthused, making a display of licking his moist lips so that Legolas groaned and closed his eyes, weakly hitting his chest with his fists.

"Stop that! You are horrible!"

"I told you that I am not nice. Rúmil is nice..." Haldir said and rolled his eyes a little as if to show what he thought of his more even-tempered brother.

"Yes, he is! And I like him! He saved me from you!" Legolas said, his eyes narrowing at this criticism of one who had been so good to him.

"Ahh, but you do not like nice, Legolas, do you? Glorfindel is not nice..."

Legolas blushed and this time, he did not answer, so that Haldir smirked and pulled him close again, only to be rewarded with another indignant sound.

"Oh, I know what your master is like.. Glorfindel can be cruel and demanding and strict, and that is exactly what you like, is it not?"

Legolas sighed, the thought of Glorfindel and what he was like so distracting that he smiled.

"It is not what they think," he then said softly. "It is not what you think, either. I... he does not need to punish me to make me obey. Do you truly think I do not know how far above me he is? His attention, his affection, his love, it is something I am grateful for every single day. I know my place… He does not need a whip to teach it to me. And I am sorry, Haldir, if I offended you yesterday. I do not truly think that I would ever be able to best you. It is my Lord who wants me to learn how to fight, but I know that I shall never be a warrior like he is - or like you are. I just wanted him to be proud of me..."

"Yes, well... of course you shall never be quite the warrior that I am. I pride myself on being rather unique."

The corner of Haldir's mouth twitched, and Legolas looked at him as if he feared that any moment now, his confession would be met with humiliating laughter or scorn.

"I think that maybe I should apologize," Haldir then said, and now he was nearly shaking with suppressed laughter. "You truly are far too sweet for your own good, do you know that? What a pity that Glorfindel got to you first! But the truth is that I did make a mistake yesterday. I should never have treated you so. No matter who your father is, first and foremost you are Glorfindel's, whom I respect. After all, if Glorfindel were to treat Ellonúr the way that I treated you yesterday, I would be furious, and rightly so."

Legolas looked up at the sudden mention of the counselor, but then decided that it was probably not the right time to ask what Haldir had planned for him.

"You can pick duels with Galuron any time you like, though," Legolas finally said. "He and his guards... I would not mind at all if someone cured them of their arrogance. They can say to me whatever they like – and it was not as if any of what they said was a lie – but to do it in front of Gîl is simple cruelty. It is not Gîl's fault that I am who I am."

"And what are you? A whore, like they said?" Haldir asked, his voice carefully free of any judgment.

At his question, Legolas swallowed, his fingers clenched tightly around Haldir’s tunic, still too shaken to give up the contact with his savior although he knew what Haldir’s reaction to his next words would probably be. "It is the truth... you know it as well as I do. But what else was I do to? I wanted my child to live. And what else has someone like me to offer Glorfindel?"

Haldir's eyes widened and he opened his mouth as though to speak, but then closed it again. There was a strange expression on his face as he stared thoughtfully at Legolas, but after a moment he sighed and shook his head, and the familiar smirk reappeared.

"Poor Glorfindel, it is no wonder he seeks to spoil you so! You must make him feel terrible! Thinking you are a whore when the love is there shining in his eyes for everyone to see... If I were him, I would give you a good spanking until you forgot all about that. You would like that, I think. Oh, you would be so sweet and pleasing after that, and you would thank him too! It is a good thing I already did all of your shopping for you, little prince. I promise you that he will enjoy what you picked for him."

Legolas swallowed when he was reminded of the mysterious parcel Haldir had brought from the leatherer's shop.

"What did you buy?" he asked, feeling both curious and fearful, but Haldir only laughed and shook his head.

"It is a surprise. You will like it, and I will spend all evening imagining how sweetly obedient you will be, and how lovely you will look, on your knees before your Lord..."

Legolas sighed almost dreamily as he imagined it, too, then blushed so that Haldir laughed again and shook his head.

"You really are asking for it – do you even know what you look like? Up with you, or I will eat you alive!"

Legolas found himself laughing too this time when Haldir helped him up. He had already forgotten most of what the guards had said, and was instead looking forward to whatever it was Glorfindel would do when they returned. It must have been what Haldir had been aiming at, and Legolas smiled, feeling absurdly grateful.

"I think you are a very nice person, Haldir," he said, and then took off for his son, still laughing at the horrified expression on the Galadhel's face.

  


  


  
**50**

After Legolas had rescued a sticky-fingered Gîlríon from the overabundance of confections he had been plied with, they continued to walk around the market for a while longer. Legolas noted a few items which would make good presents for Gîl’s begetting day in addition to the toy Lainiell, and in the end, he had Haldir distract his son while he purchased several small, beautifully carved horses and warriors, all bedecked in ancient armor. One of them even had golden hair, and Legolas smiled, imagining Gîl’s excitement.

Their stroll brought them to one of the smithies, where Legolas halted in fascination for several minutes, watching with longing as the master smith worked on a beautiful, large sword. In the end, Haldir laughed and shook his head and made to pull him away. “Your son is getting impatient, Prince… And even if you offered all the gold your Lord owns, it would not get you this sword. My Lord Celeborn ordered it – ordered two of them, I should say, for they are gifts for his twin grandsons.”

With a last gaze of longing at the beautifully crafted weapon, Legolas allowed Haldir to lead him away, barely noting the arrows and bows his guide began to peruse at the next stall. “Maybe one day, I will wield a weapon like that… Certainly my Lord would be proud of me then. I will just have to try harder at my lessons,” he sighed, imagining himself riding side by side with his Lord into battle, grown tall and strong and swinging his deadly sword…

“What do you think of this?” Haldir interrupted him, nodding towards a bow made from a wood that seemed to gleam golden in the sunlight. “Mallorn wood – I do not think there are the likes of it in either Mirkwood or Imladris. It might seem fragile, but there is no bow which shoots truer,” he enthused, stroking the smooth grip with something that came close to reverence.

“Oh,” Legolas said, giving the bow a polite look. “It looks very beautiful.”

“Beautiful it might be, yet it is a deadly weapon in the right hands.” Haldir shook his head when he realized that Legolas had turned to look back towards the smithy. “Have they even taught you how to use a bow?”

“Yes… Of course I can use one,” Legolas answered, a little surprised by Haldir’s enthusiasm. “Well enough at least to shoot myself a rabbit if I was hungry, like all the other youths.”

“A rabbit?” Haldir smirked. “Has our esteemed Lord of the Golden Flower not seen fit to get you a true master of archery for lessons, then?”

“Oh… As I already knew how to shoot, he decided I should concentrate on sword fighting for now, as I had never held a sword before.” Legolas blushed when he remembered the duel, then continued more softly. “You will have seen that I am still in need of a good many more lessons, but I am going to work very hard, so that one day I will be worthy of a sword like the one we just saw.”

Haldir raised his brow as if he wanted to say something, but then he just shook his head and turned away, returning the bow to the merchant and whispering something Legolas could not make out. Then he took up the pile of parcels and bags again, giving Legolas a questioning look.

“I think it is time for us to return,” the youth said with a sigh. “Gîl will get tired very soon, once the excitement wears off, and I do not want to carry him back.”

“I am not tired, _ada_!” Gîl exclaimed indignantly, and Legolas smiled at the answer he had expected.

“But do you not want to show your horse to _atto_, and play with it in your room?”

“Yes! _Atto_ has to look at my Asfaloth!” Gîlríon said and clutched the toy horse happily to his chest. “He has to play with me, and you too, _ada_!”

Legolas laughed softy. “We will, Gîl, I promise.” He took hold of Gîlríon’s hand, and then they started on their way back to their large guest talan, Haldir grumbling good–naturedly about the weight of Legolas’ purchases.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Glorfindel’s eyes lit up when Legolas and Gîlríon entered the room. Ignoring Haldir for the moment, he swung a giggling Gîl up into his arms, then leaned over to wrap an arm around Legolas’ waist to pull him close and kiss him.

“There you are – I thought you would leave me alone all day!”

Legolas blushed. “It has not been that long, my Lord… Gîl insisted that he could have stayed at the market for a few more hours, but then he could not have played with his new toy.”

“Look at it, _atto_!” Gîlríon interrupted, holding up the white toy horse so that it almost hit Glorfindel’s nose. “That is my Asfaloth! You have to play with us now!”

“Now, little star?” Glorfindel pressed a kiss to his brow. “I think your _ada_ needs a moment to relax. Would you like to show your Asfaloth to the Lady Arwen? She told me that she would love to play with you, and then when you return, your ada and I will play with you all evening. How does that sound?”

Gîlríon nodded in ready agreement, but held out his arms for Legolas to hug and kiss him as well before he was ready to go with Haldir. Legolas had blushed a little at Glorfindel’s words – it was obvious what his Lord had in mind, and while he was certain that it would indeed encompass the bed, he did not think that he would get to relax while Gîl was gone.

"I think we had better leave you alone now," Haldir said with a sly smile that made Legolas blush even more and remember the mysterious parcel the guard had purchased for him. "Yet if you could find a few minutes tomorrow, my Lord, to discuss a different matter, I would be grateful."

"Certainly," Glorfindel said slowly, though his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Yet he asked no questions, and although Legolas fearfully wondered for one moment whether Haldir would tell him the truth about their day after all, he quickly forgot about that once Glorfindel pulled him tightly against his body as soon as the guard was gone.

Legolas sighed softly, feeling happy and safe and as if he were coming home, smiling when he could feel how the warm chuckle made Glorfindel’s chest vibrate.

"Did you enjoy yourself, _roch neth_?" Glorfindel inquired, and Legolas nodded, his eyes closed as he deeply breathed in his Lord's scent.

"I did... but I missed you too, my Lord," he admitted.

"Did you, now?" Glorfindel murmured, nuzzling Legolas' neck so that the youth tilted his head back with a soft gasp to invite more of the caresses. "Was Gîl not enough to keep you occupied?"

Legolas smiled, then sighed with desire when the tip of a tongue flickered against his pulse.

"He... he was very good, my Lord!" he gasped. "But I still missed you... I always do!"

Glorfindel's lips curved against his skin with a smile. "Mmh...." he purred. "If you had such a good day... did you buy something nice then? Or shall I be forced to just push you down onto the bed and ravish you without further ado?"

Legolas trembled against him, his eyes closing as he moaned hungrily, desire racing through his body at Glorfindel's words. "Please..." he whispered without realizing it, then moaned again when he felt the evidence of Glorfindel's desire for him hot and hard through his clothes.

"You are so lovely," Glorfindel said hoarsely. "I could spend my life making love to you until Arda is unmade, and not regret a second of it. Bury myself so deep inside you that I can feel your heartbeat surround me..."

"Oh..." Legolas breathed, feeling so weak with lust and need that it was almost like fainting. "Yes... yes! I want it, too! Please!"

Glorfindel chuckled again, then kissed him so slowly and deeply that Legolas forgot everything, his world reduced to his Lord's taste, his scent and feel, and the need to completely surrender himself an aching pull on his heart.

"You did not answer my question, _roch neth_," Glorfindel whispered against his lips when he finally pulled back, watching with a satisfied smile how Legolas had to swallow several times before he was able to speak again.

"I... I brought some Mallorn blossom oil," Legolas said nervously. "I thought I could rub it into your skin after your bath.."

"Mmh," Glorfindel sighed in approval. "Yes, that sounds good! Did you buy anything else?"

Legolas swallowed, looking down when he felt his cheeks flush with heat. "I... We went.. I mean, Haldir showed me...That parcel over there, it..."

He fell silent, so embarrassed when he remembered what had happened that he could not speak. Glorfindel had watched him carefully, but now he laughed softly.

"You are blushing, Legolas... Now I am curious. If you will not tell me, I shall just have to find out for myself..."

Legolas watched, holding his breath when Glorfindel walked over to the table where Haldir had left their purchases. He wanted to tell him to stop, to explain how it had all come about, but he found that he could not speak as he watched his Lord open the parcel.

There was silence for a moment, then Glorfindel turned back to him, one of his brows arched quizzically. "Did you truly buy this, _roch neth_?" he asked in amused disbelief, chuckling when Legolas first paled, then blushed.

"I... my Lord, I... I have to tell you..."

"Oh yes, you have quite a lot to tell me, it seems," Glorfindel said, still chuckling as he pulled an item out of the parcel.

The black leather flogger. Legolas moaned miserably.

"Is that supposed to be a hint, _roch neth_?" Glorfindel teased. "Do you wish for a firmer hand? Have you gotten a taste for the whip now, hmm?"

"Oh, don't, my Lord," Legolas said, blushing such a bright red that Glorfindel began to laugh again.

"Did you truly buy all of this?" Glorfindel then asked again, shaking his head with amusement as he perused the contents of the parcel.

"I... no," Legolas admitted miserably. "Haldir did... but I told him to. We were in the saddler’s shop, he said you know it well, and he was taunting me... and then some of his friends came in, and it seemed like such a good idea at the time..."

Once Legolas was finished with his recollection of events, Glorfindel had to wipe the tears of laughter from his eyes. "Oh, well done, Legolas! They will never let him live it down... I wish I could have seen that!"

Legolas smiled in relief at having his tale so well received. "What did he buy then?" he asked, curiously trying to catch a glimpse of the parcel's contents, but Glorfindel smirked and stepped in front of it again to hide it from Legolas' eyes.

"Curious, _roch neth_? I think I will show you, one after the other... by using them on you."

"Oh, please don't, my Lord," Legolas said helplessly, knowing that Glorfindel had seen the flash of desire in his eyes at the suggestion.

"Are you afraid?" Glorfindel whispered softly, walking up to Legolas again with something hidden in his hands. Legolas swallowed, wanting to look down to see what it was that Glorfindel held, but he found he could not look away from his eyes.

"Yes, my Lord," he admitted, trembling again, but he knew that they were both aware that it was from desire.

"Take off your tunic," Glorfindel commanded softly, and Legolas' fingers hastened to obey before his mind had fully understood the order.

He clumsily opened one button after the other, his fingers shaking with fear and excitement so that it took far longer than it usually did – and all the while, Glorfindel's eyes kept watching him, deep and dark with lust, so dangerous...

Legolas moaned softly when his tunic finally fell to the ground, wanting to fall to his knees too, to plead for he knew not what... Mercy, maybe, or maybe the permission to worship his Lord with his hands and lips.

"Close your eyes, _roch neth_... I am going to play a game with you today," Glorfindel murmured, raising a hand to brush away a wayward strand of hair from Legolas' face when the youth obeyed. "Do not be afraid – I think you will like it," he added, laughing again when Legolas turned his head to rest his cheek against his palm like a cat demanding affection.

"So very beautiful," he whispered again, shaking his head almost as if in disbelief at the lovely picture of the trusting youth in front of him. He pressed his lips to Legolas' hair for a moment, sighing contently at the familiar scent and the silky softness of it, then stepped behind the youth. He took hold of Legolas hands and gently pulled them behind his back, feeling the rapid flutter of his pulse against his fingertips. "Be calm," he whispered soothingly and then closed the leather manacles around the slender wrists, hearing Legolas take a sharp breath and freeze.

Glorfindel smiled and stepped around again to look at the youth. Oh, there was a hint of fear, yes, but the eyes that usually were the innocent blue of a summer sky had darkened now, and were half–covered by his long, black lashes. Legolas was the very picture of desire, and when he tried to move his hands and found himself powerless, a small, trembling sigh escaped him and he looked up at Glorfindel with such helpless submission and adoration that Glorfindel felt his desire grow into a sharp pain.

"So beautiful," he whispered, gifting Legolas with a tender smile, and then he took a few steps back until he reached the table where the open parcel still rested. He smirked then, his expression changing into something almost sinister as he took the purchases and carried them with him over to the bed.

Slowly, he sat down, his eyes never leaving Legolas' trembling body, until at last he chuckled.

"So beautiful... and so helpless. So vulnerable."

Legolas blushed and took a step forward. "My Lord..." he whispered beseechingly, not understanding what game Glorfindel wanted to play, but at the Lord's next words he froze, perfectly understanding all of a sudden what Glorfindel had planned.

"You have been captured, prince... You are all alone here in my camp, with none of your people to help you. Is there a reason, my little captive, why I should let you live?" Glorfindel smiled maliciously, and Legolas felt his entire body flush with heat, barely able to hold back a moan at the sight of Glorfindel – so arrogant and masterful that he wanted to sink to his knees without protest.

Nervously, he licked his lips, feeling slightly ridiculous – but far more than his embarrassment he felt the heat of desire that filled him at Glorfindel's words. He remembered suddenly how it had been that day when Haldir had given away his true name, when what was now a game had been reality for him – when he had been forced to kneel and beg for his life in truth.

So much had changed during the two years that had followed since their first meeting. As certainly as he knew that Glorfindel loved Gîl, he knew that this was truly but a game, and that his Lord would never hurt him in such a way again.

With a soft moan he tugged on the manacles, shivering at the powerful sense of arousal that swept through him at the realization of how helpless he was.

He remembered how it made him feel to lie across his Lord's lap for punishment, and thought of the answer he had given Celeborn that one evening. He did not like the pain... but he did enjoy Glorfindel’s discipline, as embarrassing as it was. There was no hiding that fact, not when he had found his pleasure in such a way so often.

And why should he not enjoy being helpless for his Lord, to give him his surrender, his vulnerability as a gift? It was strange if he considered how their relationship had started, but the truth was that he trusted Glorfindel more than anyone else on Arda.

Had his Lord known these things about him from the beginning? He had not known them himself, and even after being with Glorfindel for months, had been frightened by his reactions to his Lord's dominance. But there was nothing to be afraid of, and nothing to feel ashamed for... his Lord had taught him that, and Legolas felt love and affection and yes – arousal – swell up inside him like a wave.

"Please, do not kill me!" he begged, and it took no effort at all to make his voice tremble as though with fear, although it truly was desire and need that made his words weak and shaky.

"It would be a waste to kill you," Glorfindel agreed in a dark purr that made Legolas bite his lip so he would not moan, "you are far too beautiful – oh, I can think of better uses for you. Come closer, Prince, and let me look you over!"

"What... what do you want of me?" Legolas asked, his heart beating faster with every step he took towards his Lord.

"First... first you will kneel before me. And then you will show me proper respect, little Prince. Call me _Master_," Glorfindel commanded, and Legolas felt so weak with arousal that he fell to his knees without further protest, his breath catching slightly when the position reminded him of his bound wrists.

He could not help but tug, but the manacles were sturdy and held together by three thick links of metal. There was no escape for him – his Lord spoke the truth, he was completely at his mercy.

The knowledge made him moan softly, and want to immediately surrender to his Lord. Yet despite his desire, he shook his head, wanting to please Glorfindel by playing along with the game.

"No, I shall not!" he said defiantly, but then swallowed when Glorfindel took an item from the parcel. It was the flogger, and although Legolas had seen it before, he still tried to flinch away in panic when Glorfindel used the handle to tilt his head up.

"Oh, you shall, little Prince... You shall call me Master, and mean it. It is your choice whether you will feel the touch of this before or not..."

He raised the flogger, then gently swung it forward so that the tresses settled over Legolas' shoulder, the tips tickling over his back. Legolas gasped in fear, even though the motion had been far too slow for it to hurt. Yet the leather strands were heavy on his shoulder, and he shivered when he imagined them coming down onto his back with force.

"I... Please, don't!" he begged, feeling small and vulnerable even though he knew it was just a game, yet at the same time he knew that he would not be able to bear it if Glorfindel stopped here. "Please don't... Master!"

The admission wrung a little sob from him, and Glorfindel laughed in dark pleasure. "That is not so hard, little Prince, is it?" he murmured, finally putting the flogger away to instead bury one hand in the silky veil of the youth's hair.

"How do you intend to pay me for sparing your life then, now that you have deprived me of the pleasure of seeing you cry out under the whip?"

"I... please, I will do anything you desire, Master, if you show mercy!"

Legolas gave Glorfindel a pleading look, trembling at how menacing he looked. Maybe it should have been embarrassing, this game they were playing. Yet instead of it being shameful, being forced to kneel - to beg for mercy - had him hard with desire, and for one moment he felt grateful that Glorfindel would not only know those things about him, but also knew how to give them to him without shaming him for it.

"Mercy..." Glorfindel smiled slowly. "Like I said, that is something you will have to earn.”

"Please... I surrender myself to you, Master," Legolas whispered, deeply bowing his head in submission until his forehead rested on the floor.

"Please, have mercy..."

Slowly, he pressed his lips to the arched instep of Glorfindel's bare foot, remaining in that position for a long moment, feeling almost light–headed with arousal and the need to please, to submit. Above him, he heard Glorfindel groan, and the thought that he _was_ pleasing his Lord was almost enough to make him spill himself without a further touch.

"Serve me, and I shall be merciful," Glorfindel said, and although his voice was soft, it had the taste of a threat. Slowly, Legolas sat back up on his knees, his mouth opening to ask how he should serve, but at the sight that greeted him all words were forgotten.

Glorfindel's fingers were deftly pulling on the ties that held his breeches closed, and after only a moment, his hard shaft sprang free. Legolas moaned then, feeling a desperate need at the musky scent of arousal that suddenly enveloped him, and without further thought leaned towards it, pressing his lips to the wiry, golden curls to hungrily breathe in Glorfindel’s heat and scent.

"Yes..." Glorfindel hissed. "Serve me, Prince, and earn your life!"

There was no thought of protest now; not even for the sake of the game could Legolas have resisted the feast before him. And he did not want to resist – that was the truth about him, the truth that only Glorfindel knew and understood. He wanted to submit... He wanted to be told what to do; he wanted to obey and be praised for it by his Lord.

"Oh, yes," Glorfindel moaned, and Legolas echoed his moan, pressing his lips in reverence to the base of the hard shaft, to the full pouch beneath, his tongue flicking out to taste the skin there before he could no longer hold back. He licked from root to tip, groaning in helpless hunger at the salty taste that exploded on his tongue there, fanning his desire so that with a whimper of desperate need, he wrapped his lips around the crown and sucked.

The sounds Glorfindel made spurred him on, soft groans, gasps for air, and then large hands came to cradle his head gently, but firmly. They kept him in place while he willingly took the hard length deep into his throat, with the awareness of his complete surrender and helplessness running hot like a fever through his veins.

It did not take long at all – once, there was a moment when Legolas thought Glorfindel might want to pull back, but he renewed his efforts, needing to feel his Lord find his pleasure more than anything then, and Glorfindel gave in with a low groan. Legolas could feel him stiffen in his throat, twitching with the hot gush of release, and when his Lord finally pulled back, Legolas moaned in disappointment, yearning for the taste that he had been deprived of.

"Sweet, sweet Legolas," Glorfindel whispered, still breathless, and drew his face up for a long, lingering kiss. "Oh, that was beautiful!"

He smoothed Legolas' hair away from his face with a content sigh, leaning back on the bed to regain his strength, and Legolas knelt patiently at his feet, still flushed with desire and need.

He licked over his swollen lips, tasting his Lord on them, and moaned weakly, then lowered his head to the ground again to kiss Glorfindel's feet once more, trembling at how complete, how overwhelming his submission felt just then.

For a long moment he waited, wondering whether Glorfindel was even looking at him, but finally there was a hand in his hair again, pulling him up to meet the lazy and thoroughly satisfied look of his Lord.

"Ah, you are perfect, _roch neth_," Glorfindel breathed, then let go of his hair to stretch with a sigh. "Do not fear... I have not finished with you by any means. For now, though, you may get up, so I can help you out of your leggings – that _does_ look uncomfortable."

He chuckled and gave Legolas' groin an amused look, where the damp fabric showed the outline of his straining shaft only too clearly.

"Oh, please, my Lord!" Legolas gasped involuntarily when Glorfindel's fingers touched him there, but the Lord just laughed and cruelly shook his head.

"Not yet," he denied when he pulled open the lacing, then pushed the garment down Legolas' thighs so the youth could step out of them. "Come, join me on the bed, _roch neth_."

Clumsily, Legolas did as he was told despite the manacles that still held his wrists bound. Glorfindel smirked at the small moan that escaped him when the head of his swollen shaft brushed against the coverlet, but then pushed him down so that he came to rest on his side.

"Did you like that?" he murmured, lying down behind him so that his breath tickled the fine hair at Legolas' nape. "You were not afraid, were you?"

"No," Legolas said and swallowed against the urge to roll over and rub himself against the bed until he found release. "No, of course not... You told me it was a game, my Lord. You must know I enjoyed it!"

"Good... we might play it again sometime. You looked most becoming on your knees, pleading and frightened..."

Legolas could hear the satisfied smirk in his voice and groaned, wriggling a little in Glorfindel's grip.

"You will not be able to play it again if I die of neglect first!" he complained, his voice hitching when Glorfindel chuckled and simply reached around him to take him into a firm grip, squeezing him once so that he bucked like a wild horse.

"Ah, ah... none of that spirit, _roch neth_," Glorfindel purred and moved his hand so that his fingers tightened threateningly around the pouch beneath, cradling the firm globes in his warm hand so that Legolas stilled with a groan at how vulnerable this made him feel.

"Oh, please, my Lord... Have I not been good? Do not torment me so!" he begged, whimpering a little for good measure, and then with real feeling when his Lord's fingers squeezed him just a tiny amount more tightly.

"Will you behave for me then, _roch neth_?" Glorfindel asked and Legolas moaned in assent, allowing himself to be pushed onto his belly and spreading his legs for his Lord's touch without having to be told.

"Oh yes... very beautiful," Glorfindel sighed, leaning over him to press a kiss to his neck, smiling at the way the bound hands flexed against his chest. He allowed his own hands to travel across Legolas' back, stroking over the sharp ridges of his shoulder blades, clearly visible because of the position the manacles forced his arms into. "Lovely... I could play with you like this all day," he said contently, then laughed at Legolas' impatient moan.

"Do not despair, _roch neth_, I will allow you your pleasure... eventually." There was a smirk on his face, and he looked up and down the helpless body of the youth spread out beneath him. Then he let his fingers follow his eyes, exploring the smooth skin, teasing all the hidden, sensitive places until Legolas was moaning again and helplessly moving his hips in search of friction.

"Ai, Valar... I could eat you alive!" he groaned when he looked at the perfectly rounded buttocks, taut muscles quivering with need. He leaned down and bit into the firm flesh, hard enough to leave a red imprint of his teeth there that faded only after several heartbeats.

"You are perfect," he said again, more softly. "Do you even know what you are doing to me? _Legolas vain nín_... I am yours as much as you are mine."

"My Lord..." Legolas whispered, his voice strangely shy and trembling with what might have been tears, but before he could say anything more, Glorfindel gently rested a hand on his head, stroking him as if he were a child to be soothed.

Then the Lord leaned down, pressing a kiss to one of the bound hands where his ring still gleamed on a thumb, so that Legolas gasped in surprise at the unexpected caress. Glorfindel’s hands returned to rest on the slim hips, then moved to massage the firm buttocks, moaning in approval at how well they fit into his hands. His thumb pressed hard against where he had bit Legolas until the youth gasped, and then he let his fingers stray to the place they had aimed for so often, pulling the globes apart to reveal the small, round muscle hidden between.

Glorfindel grinned at the oily sheen that gleamed on the rosy skin. "I watched you prepare yourself for me this morning," he purred, his breath teasing against the sensitive flesh so that the little muscle constricted and relaxed again, as if beckoning for his touch. "I love watching you do that... Watching you slide those slender, long fingers deep inside yourself, and knowing that you are thinking of my cock while you do it. Do you know that you always close your eyes then, _roch neth_, and that your breath hitches a little?"

He smirked when the small opening twitched again. "Delectable," he breathed. He gently blew against it, chuckling at the moan Legolas could not hold back, then touched the tip of his tongue to it, circling around it while Legolas yelped in surprise and squirmed beneath him.

"Keep it up and you will go to bed hard and desperate," Glorfindel threatened and laughed when Legolas stilled beneath him almost immediately, his body trembling with the exertion of holding himself motionless.

"Good," he then said in satisfaction, breathing against the ring of muscle simply for the joy of seeing it contract with need, and hearing the youth whimper. Again he circled around it with his tongue, loving how he could feel Legolas' desperation in the way every muscle of his body tensed, and then pushed inside with the tip. Legolas squirmed, but there was not much he could do with the lower part of his body held immobile by Glorfindel's weight, and his wrists still bound with the leather manacles.

He was making little sounds, pleading maybe, or even crying, but he had muffled them by turning his face into a cushion so Glorfindel could not tell.

"You are so hot inside... so hot and tight," Glorfindel purred when he finally pulled back, pressing a fingertip against the wetly gleaming opening and watching with a moan how it slid inside without resistance from the relaxed muscle. At Legolas' sigh of approval, he added a second finger, then licked at the delicate, stretched skin again. "You look good when you are filled, _roch neth_ – and suddenly you are so well–behaved too, once you have something pushed deep inside you, something spreading you open, claiming you... You need that to show you your place, mmh? I am wondering just what else Haldir has chosen for you..."

Legolas whined at the loss when Glorfindel pulled away from him, but quickly fell silent, muscles quivering with tension when he heard Glorfindel rummaging through the mysterious parcel.

"Hmm, that is curious... Why did he not get..."

Glorfindel frowned, shaking his head, but then his eyes fell onto the flogger that lay discarded at the end of the bed. He studied it for a moment, then took it into his hands with a smirk forming on his face.

"Haldir, you bastard," he said with reluctant admiration, laughing when at his words Legolas began to struggle again, trying to turn over so that he would be able to see.

"Oh no, _roch neth_, stay just as you are!" he commanded sternly, watching with satisfaction how the youth fell still again, although he was tense with fearful anticipation.

"Tomorrow, I think, you will thank Haldir for his most thoughtful help in picking out appropriate... _gear_ for you," he ordered, loving the soft moan of dismay this brought him. "And you will be oh so very grateful, once you have had a chance to feel what he chose for you... He must be quite confident in what you can take, but then of course, he knows how I am built."

A smile tugged on his lips when he saw another blush heating Legolas' face, but then he took a vial of oil which Haldir had most graciously also thought to include, and opened it to rub some of the golden liquid into the smooth, black leather of the flogger's handle. It was thick and sturdy, though not quite as impressive as his own length – yet it was leather, not warm flesh, and the simple shock of being penetrated by something inflexible and unknown would make this difficult to bear for Legolas... and most entertaining for him to watch.

But there was something else he had seen in the parcel…

“Close your eyes,” he commanded, then pulled out the length of black fabric. He leaned forward, carefully covering Legolas’ eyes with it and knotting it behind his head. At the youth’s surprised gasp, he rested a hand on his hair to soothe him. “Poor Legolas,” he whispered, “so helpless, so completely at my mercy,” and smiled at the soft sigh that answered him, knowing that it was exactly what Legolas desired.

Still, he did not want to overwhelm him, and so he reached down to open the leather manacles. He closed his own hands around the slender wrists in exchange, and pulled them up to rest on the bed above Legolas’ head.

“Keep them this way, _roch neth_. If I see you move your arms at all, I will make you so very sorry for it!” he threatened, then watched with growing lust how Legolas stretched a little beneath him, his voice trembling with need as he promised to obey.

“Good... You may moan and cry out as much as you like. No one will come to save you.” He chuckled a little when his words did indeed make the youth moan, but then lay down again between his thighs, teasing him with quick flicks of his tongue against the trembling opening. He added two fingers after a moment, holding him spread open so that he could dip inside with his tongue a little, until finally the youth was incoherent with need, trembling and moaning and his skin gleaming with sweat.

“Now relax for me, _roch neth_,” Glorfindel murmured, rubbing some more of the oil into him, then took the flogger and gently pushed the tip of the handle inside. Legolas was so relaxed that it slid into him before he even noticed that something was wrong, but once he realized that the cool, stiff presence inside him was not his Lord but some unknown object, he gasped and tightened around it.

“Shhh.” Glorfindel soothingly rested a hand on the small of his back, gently rubbing while at the same time, he slowly but determinedly pushed the handle deeper inside Legolas, ignoring his gasps and whimpers.

“Oh, please my Lord, I _cannot_!” Legolas finally begged. “Please, it is too big!”

“Is it?” Glorfindel smirked, leaning forward again to whisper directly into Legolas’ ear. “It is not only big, but also long… It will fill you so completely that you will not be able to do anything but whimper and tremble for my entertainment. And do you want to know another thing, _roch neth_? It might be big, but it does not quite have my girth, so that when I finally do take you, you are still going to feel every inch as I sheathe myself in your struggling body.”

Legolas moaned then, almost as if in despair, and Glorfindel pushed the flogger deeper inside, ignoring the youth’s protests and chuckling when in the end Legolas tried to buck up, the head of the handle mercilessly rubbing over the small gland inside him.

“Fight all you want, but this is going to stay inside you for as long as I wish,” Glorfindel said and groaned softly. The small ring of muscle was stretched so tightly around the black leather… Glorfindel imagined how it would feel to finally bury himself inside the delectable body of the youth and groaned again. Not yet, though… There were other things he wanted to do first.

Like making his poor little prince aware of just _what_ it was he had inside himself…

“Get up on your knees,” he ordered, following it with a light slap so that Legolas gasped and struggled to obey, carefully pushing himself up with the handle of the flogger stiff and unyielding in his passage. He whined a little, his legs trembling when the handle continued to rub against him inside, but then froze with a sound of dismay when at his movement, some of the leather tresses brushed against his thigh.

“No…” he breathed in disbelief, “No, you did not… you _cannot_…”

His eyes still covered by the blindfold, he reached back with one hand to feel just what it was Glorfindel had used, but Glorfindel quickly snatched his wrist and pressed it back into the mattress with a low growl.

“I warned you not to move your hands!” he stated, then followed the statement up with several slaps to Legolas’ bottom, so that the pale skin flushed and the youth squeaked in shock. Every time his hand impacted with the skin it sent vibrations up the handle impaling the youth, so that soon Legolas was reduced to whimpering and writhing beneath his punishment. With an evil little smile, Glorfindel finally stopped, but made certain that the last slap hit the flogger directly, jarring the handle so that it was pushed against the spot inside that made Legolas cry out with dismayed pleasure and collapse to the bed at last.

“I hope you have learned your lesson now, _roch neth_,” Glorfindel purred, “I do not suffer that kind of spirit in a horse, unbroken or not… And you make such a sweet little mount. Such a lovely tail you have…” He tugged lightly on the leather tresses, then laughed when Legolas groaned at the motion of the handle inside him.

“Now turn around – lie down on your back for me. And remember to keep your hands where they are…” Glorfindel smiled when Legolas whimpered as his reddened buttocks rubbed against the pillow he had pushed beneath his hips to raise and support him, but apart from the sound he was very obedient and kept his hands above his head as if they were bound there.

“Good… Very good, _roch neth_.” Legolas sighed happily at the praise, and Glorfindel sighed as well, finding him hard and needy despite the flogger and the punishment, just as he had expected. Legolas’ breath came fast, and his skin gleamed with a thin sheen of sweat so that he was almost luminescent in the light of the low afternoon sun, and Glorfindel just could not wait any longer – he had to taste him now.

With a soft, hungry moan, he licked a tiny droplet of salty sweat from the flat stomach, then rested his head there for a moment, the heat of his breath teasing against the tip of Legolas’ swollen length every time he exhaled. Legolas whimpered, his shaft twitching as if begging Glorfindel to stop this torture, and after a moment of watching the youth’s growing desperation with amusement, Glorfindel flicked his tongue against the small slit, moaning in approval at the salty taste of arousal he found there.

Legolas gasped and shuddered hard, but he had learned his lesson and kept his hands where they had been placed by his Lord.

“Yes, stay still and let me play with you,” Glorfindel murmured, too distracted by the sight before him to even look up, and apart from the tense, quivering muscles beneath him, Legolas’ body was perfectly motionless.

Slowly, Glorfindel moved forward until he was close enough to let his tongue circle around the glans. He did it once again, loving the desperate moan it forced from Legolas, then finally showed pity and sucked the entire tip into his mouth. It made the youth try to arch up with a cry, but with Glorfindel’s weight pressing him into the bed he could not move very much, and so Glorfindel gleefully continued to torture him for a long while. He lovingly swirled his tongue around the head of the shaft, making soft, wet sounds as he sucked on him, and when Legolas had finally grown desperate enough to plead and whimper for him to stop, he took hold of the flogger again.

He pulled it out a small fraction, then pushed it back inside, hitting his aim with every sure stroke just as if he were claiming him for real, and all the while he kept sucking on the youth’s swollen length, feeling it harden even more while Legolas bucked and writhed beneath him like the wild horse he had so often compared him to. His release came fast, as Glorfindel had intended, and so hard that Legolas cried out in shocked pleasure, convulsing beneath him as he shuddered in helpless abandon. Glorfindel had to use all of his strength to keep him in place, but when he had finally swallowed all Legolas had to give, he found him slumped back on the bed in a half-faint – his hands still in place above his head as if Glorfindel’s words had bound them there more surely than any rope or chains ever could.

\-----------------------  
atto - affectionate form of "father" [Quenya]  
ada - affectionate form of "father" [Sindarin]  
roch neth - colt  
Legolas vain nín - my beautiful Legolas  
\-----------------------  


  



	6. Chapters 51-60

**51**

Slowly, Glorfindel pulled out the flogger, being careful not to hurt Legolas although the youth was so relaxed and exhausted now that he only moaned tiredly at the sensation. He was beautiful still although the pleasure was gone - or maybe even more so now, resting trustingly on the bed, his skin flushed and glistening with sweat, his surrender still so complete that it made Glorfindel's heart ache.

Awed, Glorfindel shook his head. He had never experienced anything like this. Seeing the youth so defenseless, he wanted to ravish him as if he were a wild animal, forcing him roughly into submission and taking him hard until Legolas cried, and yet at the same time he wanted to hold him close and shelter him with the tender care he would show a wounded bird.

"My Legolas... How you have bewitched me," he whispered, swallowing against the tightness in his throat. "I think of you whenever I am apart from you... I think of you lying in my bed, like this, so vulnerable, so beautiful, and I yearn to return to your side so I can embrace you and hold you close."

"My Lord..." Legolas sighed, his head turning towards Glorfindel, smiling when fingers touched his cheek.

"I am yours – I am all yours, to do with whatever you please," he sighed, sleepily moving against Glorfindel in invitation.

"Mmh... do you want this then?" Glorfindel asked in a purr, groaning against Legolas' neck as he let him feel how hard he was. "Do you want this inside you? Do you think you can please me that way?"

"Oh, yes! Please, my Lord!" Legolas moaned, feeling languid with release but still not satisfied – it was not lust now, not desire, but something deeper, something that could only be satisfied by the feel of his Lord finding his pleasure inside him.

He was still wearing the blindfold, and even though his Lord no longer required him to lie motionless, being unable to see added a new level of intensity to every word and touch. Even more so than earlier he wanted to please Glorfindel now, and when finally his Lord slid inside him, he moaned softly, the ache of being invaded satisfying the all-encompassing need to surrender himself completely.

And there could be nothing more complete than this, moving with Glorfindel's thrusts, feeling his breath against his nape, listening to the sounds of his pleasure. Glorfindel possessed him body and soul, and he cherished this proof of it with all his heart.

When his Lord finally found release, Legolas moaned as well, moved by a powerful feeling that was not unlike climax yet at the same time totally different. They did not move for a while afterwards, silently resting together, still joined, and Legolas sighed in tired appreciation of how his Lord still felt so huge inside him, even though he was softening.

“Thank you,” he said softly, arching against his Lord’s body in tired satisfaction. He felt exhausted and sweaty and so very, very good – he had truly been well-used, and he reveled in the feeling.

Glorfindel murmured something against his skin in answer, and Legolas laughed softly.

“Have I exhausted you, my Lord?” he asked, smiling when Glorfindel snorted. Then his Lord’s hands reached up into his hair and gently pulled the blindfold off, and Legolas sighed again when he was rewarded with a kiss to his temple.

“I really hope you enjoyed this as much as I did, because I have never seen you look so beautiful as when you surrendered yourself to me so completely,” Glorfindel breathed into his ear.

Legolas closed his eyes and smiled. “How can you doubt it? You saw how I enjoyed it.”

Glorfindel’s arms came around him, his Lord’s hair tickling him where it spilled onto his shoulder and chest, and he took a deep breath, resolving to be truthful with his Lord, and to not let fear make him fall silent. Only a few hours ago he had thought that he would die, that he would never see his Lord again, and remembering what he had felt when he saw the blade moving towards him, he forced himself to speak.

“I feel tired and used and sore, my Lord, and I love it. I love how you feel inside me, I love how you force me to experience things I am too afraid to ask for.” His heart was beating faster in his chest, and he did not dare to turn his head to meet his Lord’s eyes, even though he trusted him – did he not? He knew that Glorfindel would never take his words and use them to hurt him, but he remembered others who had, one of them a horse guard whom he had once thought of as a friend, and he swallowed.

Glorfindel was not like that. He had trusted Glorfindel with his body, with his life, with his child – why was it so hard then to trust him with the secrets of his heart?

“I loved it when you tied my hands!” he recklessly continued, “and I loved it to kneel and plead! And I am grateful, my Lord, so very grateful, for all that you give me!”

“Grateful, hmm?” Glorfindel asked against his shoulder, but his Lord’s arms embraced him more tightly, and it was obvious that he was teasing when he continued.

“I had hoped for more than gratitude, _roch neth_… I would hate hearing that you surrender to me because you are _grateful_.”

“It is not like that, my Lord, truly!” Legolas exclaimed and now finally turned around. The motion caused Glorfindel’s softened length to slip out of him so that he sighed in regret, but Glorfindel’s warm smile made up for the loss.

“No? What is it like then?”

Legolas sighed again at his Lord’s playful tone, raising a hand to reverently run it through his golden locks.

"I am yours, my Lord... Not because I am afraid, not because you force me, but because that is exactly what I want to be. I _want_ to be yours! I have never known such happiness before. I love you, my Lord, more than I ever thought was possible."

"My Legolas..." Glorfindel whispered, moved by an emotion so strong and deep that he began to trail his fingers over Legolas' cheeks and lips, as if to assure himself that he was truly there.

_Be mine forever_, he found himself wanting to say, and only at that moment did he realize what it meant so that he fell silent instead, gazing at the beautiful youth in his arms with a new awareness.

He did mean it. He wanted it, more than he had ever wanted anything... He simply could not imagine anymore what it would be like to live without Legolas by his side and in his bed.

Could it be done, though? Was it possible with matters as they now stood? And yet, with what had happened, with what he had done, how could he even contemplate _not_ honoring the boy the way he should have right from the beginning?

The thought was overwhelming, yet not because it scared him. It was an enormous thought, a thought that could change his life for centuries, millennia, until Arda was unmade – yet when he thought about walking with Legolas along the shore of Valinor, as he had already sworn he would, he found that he was filled with a deep, quiet joy.

He wanted it. He wanted Legolas to be his, for all eternity. Every sigh of pleasure, every uncertain touch, he wanted to hear them, feel them, be the cause for all of them.

"Yours," Legolas vowed quietly, and Glorfindel moved to kiss him, keeping the words to himself until a better time to speak them. There would be recognition and honor for all that Legolas had given him – he would make certain of that.

As for how it could be done... Glorfindel resolved to have a talk with Celeborn. He knew that there was nothing the Lord could say that would change his mind, for this was not a new idea that had suddenly sprung up but a deeper truth of which Glorfindel had been aware of for a long time now if he was honest with himself. Yet Celeborn’s view might still be helpful, especially as he desired that it be something that would bring nothing but joy to Legolas.

There had been so much pain in the youth's life, much of it caused by himself in thoughtless cruelty, and Glorfindel felt humbled by the wave of tenderness that now swept through him when he looked at Legolas.

"You are so finely made," he whispered, reverently following the lines of Legolas' cheekbones with a fingertip. "As if the Valar poured all the beauty there is in Arda into your creation, paying attention to every little detail... I could look at you for hours and still find something that will make me burn for you as if I saw you for the first time."

Legolas blushed at his words, still – after all this time with him – so unused to compliments that a part of him was uncertain whether it was only a jest, and Glorfindel resolved that this as well was a habit that he would find great delight in overcoming.

"Burn for me?" Legolas asked softly, a corner of his mouth twitching slightly in amusement at the wording. "Do you, then?"

"Do you doubt it?" Glorfindel asked in return, raising a brow and allowing himself to give the youth a hungry look. Even though he was exhausted, the truth was that a few more moments of contemplating his prince's amenities and he would indeed be burning for his embrace once more.

"It is as if you were made solely for me to find pleasure in," he exclaimed in wonder. "I wager that I could spend a week pursuing orcs without a single hour of sleep, and still rouse to your touch as eager as a young stag.”

Legolas smiled then, a slow, secretive smile. "And that is something I love, too," he breathed, half-closing his eyes in languid desire as he took his Lord's hand and moved it down between their bodies, proving that indeed he was hard and aching for his Lord's touch once more now.

  
**52**

When Glorfindel entered the room, Celeborn rose to greet him. He clasped his shoulder as he lead him up another winding stair to a small talan nestled at the very top of the large mallorn that housed the Lady and Lord of the Galadhrim. Branches and leaves hid the talan from sight, yet whoever chose to recline on one of the comfortable chairs and settees lined with plump velvet cushions had an unsurpassed view of a sea of gold. The royal talan was nestled among the boughs of the largest and oldest mallorn tree that stood at the center of Caras Galadhon, and thus those selected few who were invited to enjoy the view from this topmost, private flat saw a sea of golden leaves spreading out below them into all directions as far as they could see. Golden waves rippled and rustled on the surface of the forest as gusts of wind played among the trees, and Glorfindel stood silently for a while, remembering the ocean he had crossed such a long time ago – remembering the sound of the waves lapping at the shore of Eldamar. Such bittersweet memories, to think of the beauty he had left behind in exchange for the toils and troubles of this mortal shore…

Yet there was beauty to be found in this strange land that had become home to him, such beauty and treasure he might never have known in Aman’s tranquillity.

“Would that Legolas could see this,” he said softly, his eyes shining as he remembered shores far away. “He glories in the beauty of your forest. This is a sight that would touch the coldest heart, and to him – he would keep the memory with him always and cherish it as a treasure.”

Celeborn smiled indulgently. “Where is he then? I thought you would bring him and young Gîlríon. It is obvious to all of us that you cannot bear to part from them for more than a moment, besotted as you are like newly-weds.”

“Besotted…” Glorfindel said slowly, as if tasting the word on his tongue, then gave Celeborn a look that was almost embarrassed. “As always, _mellon_, you see straight to the heart of the matter. Wedded… how I wish we were…” He sighed, watching the golden leaves swaying in the wind while Celeborn looked at him in astonishment.

“Never would I have thought to hear such a sentiment coming from your lips!” he exclaimed. “Infamous Glorfindel – has your heart truly been tamed at last?”

Glorfindel smiled in embarrassment but did not deny his friend’s words. “Is that so surprising?” he asked softly. “Think of what he has given me – a child, Celeborn! A son! For that alone, it was inevitable that what I see in him would change. If I love the child, can I teach him to hate the one who brought him into this world? Did I truly think to have my child grow up with the knowledge that the one who gave life to him is nothing but a slave to me, a whore – someone despised and hated for the very act which gave him life? How could I have been so blind, Celeborn?”

Glorfindel shook his head, his hands clenched into fists in desperation as he remembered all he had done. “I brought Legolas such immeasurable pain and shame – how will I ever be able to make up for even a small part of it? For I love him, Celeborn, I love him! So deeply, so desperately as I have never loved before. Whenever I look at him it is as if there are barbed hooks deep in my heart, pulling and hurting at the awareness that I need him to be mine until the very end of this world. Do I have the right to even ask this of him, after what I did? Should I not give him his freedom, give him a choice at least to make up for what I took from him without his consent? Yet the truth is that I am not as good, as noble as that. I cannot do that – I cannot! He must be mine, for otherwise…”

Glorfindel fell silent, running one hand through his hair in agitation. “To wake in the morning without his smile to greet me – ai, it is a greater horror than facing another Balrog would be!”

“Besotted in truth, then,” Celeborn said and smiled, moving to pour them some wine. “Never fear that I would counsel you to send him away, pretending it is for his own good when we both know that it would be the last in a very long line of rejections that would break his spirit once and for all. What good he has known in his life comes from you, _mellon_. I will not pretend either that everything that happened was for his own good in the end – we both know that it would have been for the best had you wooed and loved him when you first met. Yet we cannot change what has happened, and if you truly want to make amends for what hurt you have caused him, I can only counsel you to stay with him, to let year after year of patient, faithful loving wash away his memories of pain and rejection.”

Glorfindel took a deep breath. “You agree then?” he asked, for once so uncharacteristically shy that Celeborn looked at him in amusement. “You think it can be done? It must be nothing but joy and pleasure for him, for I could not bear to cause him more hurt. And as my humiliations of him were so cruelly public, this will have to be done publicly as well, so that everyone will see how I love and respect him. Yet if I follow this plan, his father will come to know of it, and I do not think that this is something he will ever forgive him. If Legolas wears my ring, he will have irrevocably allied himself with the old Noldorin houses.”

Celeborn shook his head. “It is much too late to be concerned about that. He has borne you an heir, and you know very well that his father will never forgive him for that. It is Legolas’ decision to make, _mellon_, give him that much at least. And I do not think it would be a hard decision for him, to choose between the one who has given him love, acceptance and a child, and the one from whom he has always only ever known rejection and denial.”

Glorfindel nodded slowly. “I wish I could give him his father’s love,” he sighed. “To see Legolas with Gîl... Although he is so very young himself, although the pregnancy brought him so much pain and despair, he never shows anything but the utmost patience with Gîl, such gentleness and affection and unceasing love…”

“You give him something better than a father’s love,” Celeborn said earnestly. “It is only right that you should feel remorse, as we all should, but do not forget that you have given him good things as well. Whether it is enough to make up for what happened, who can say – but it is enough to make him love you, and that is what counts.”

“But what if…” Glorfindel swallowed, then looked down, unable to meet Celeborn’s eyes. “He did not have a choice, not truly… He could either die from grief, or convince himself to love me.”

“It is a difficult situation, that is true,” Celeborn said gently. “There are no easy answers, nor do I think there ever will be for you – yet when I look into his eyes, I see naught but his love for you. Whether you marry him or no, there is already a bond wrought between your _fëar_, there for everyone to see who cares to look for it.”

Glorfindel sighed but smiled wistfully, taking a sip from his wine in relief at his friend’s encouragement. “In truth, a ring will be no more but a public affirmation of an oath I have already sworn him – I swore by the grace of the Valar that one day when we have left these wearisome shores behind, I shall walk the shores of Aman with him and show him and our children all the wonders of the Undying Lands.”

“Children?” Celeborn raised a brow. “He is not–“

“Ai, no!” Glorfindel interrupted. “No – although I hope that the Valar will gift us with another child in time. Yet for now, I will be content with our Gîl – he gives us nothing but joy, and truly, Legolas deserves the chance to experience more of life than what he has known so far.”

“Wed him then, by all means!” Celeborn said and laughed. “Wed him, and do it sooner rather than later, for you shine with love when you think of him. Such love that will endure the ages comes only rarely, as you well know.”

“Indeed, for I have waited for three ages to find such love,” Glorfindel sighed. “Yet he is all I could ask for, and more… I look forward to seeing him grow over the years, to watch him gain experience and self-assurance. It does not matter whether in the end he chooses to be a warrior or a poet, or decide to breed horses – I want him to be happy. I want him to be able to make a choice… a choice that is free from worries about what others will think of him for it.”

“And yet you will still desire him to submit to you?”

“Of course. That is too deeply a part of both of us. Even should he become a renowned warrior, masterful in battle, he will still desire me to dominate him in such a way, and you know that very well.”

Celeborn nodded. “As he must be the only person not only willing to put up with your arrogance and vanity, but ready to love you for it as well, I would say you are well suited.”

Glorfindel chuckled. “He knows my faults and loves me not despite them, but for them – as I love him for what others would call his faults. I know him like he has never allowed another to know him, and where his own brother mocks him for his weakness, I love him for the way he insists on seeing the best in people even though he has never been given that chance himself. Others might call him a coward, yet I admire how he always clung to hope, even when it would have been so much easier to succumb to grief.”

“I am glad – for both of you,” Celeborn said and smiled. “Will you have need of the goldsmith then, or shall you wait until your return to Imladris?”

“He shall return to Imladris as my betrothed, with silver rings on our fingers – mine, for everyone to see,” Glorfindel said and smiled as he imagined it. “He shall return respected and surrounded by friends. Already my warriors have come to love him, and your granddaughter shall befriend him as well. I sent Legolas to join her, for she offered to look after Gîl for a while, and I know that she will welcome him as a friend, for my sake as well as for his own qualities. Arwen has a gift that will make even someone as shy as Legolas feel at ease – she is nothing but kindness and gentleness, and I know that Legolas will come to love her as we all do.”

“She will be good for him,” Celeborn agreed. “She would never willingly cause someone pain, least of all someone you love – your plan should work well. She will fall in love with your son as does everyone else, and who would dare question to whom the Lady of Imladris gives her affection?”

“Still... the situation will not change over night, not with so many who still despise him as Thranduil’s son, but it _will_ change. I will make certain of that,” Glorfindel said calmly. “And if there is no change… I swore no oath to Elrond, nor to anyone else when I returned. Yet I swore an oath to Legolas…”

“You contemplate sailing?” Celeborn asked in surprise. “Surely you do not truly mean that?”

“I do not know… If there is no other way…” Glorfindel sighed and shook his head, then gave Celeborn a beseeching look, willing his friend to understand. “A child, _mellon_! A child the Valar gave me, to protect and to love… I shall not raise him where he is called a bastard, and the one who gave life to him a whore. I know well that it is my own fault things got that far, yet if I cannot change this situation – what would you have me do? I came to serve the House of Eärendil, as I had done in my former life, yet then I had no child, no beloved to protect. I might well have a task left to fulfill on these shores, and I shall not run from the threat the Dark Lord poses – yet my life is no longer my own, and my protection must be for Legolas and Gîl as well as for Imladris.”

Celeborn looked distinctly unsettled at this revelation, but he seemed to realize that nothing he could say would change Glorfindel’s mind.

“You have only ever given of yourself, and I can understand how you must feel about your family, yet I hope this situation will never escalate so far. You would be dearly missed, my friend,” he said with a frown, putting his half-full goblet down.

“I hope that I will never be forced to make that decision,” Glorfindel said and put down his goblet as well. “It seems that I have brought you unhappiness now, and I am sorry for it – truly, it was not something I had planned to do. Shall I leave you now with my apologies for the news that I have brought you?”

“The news was mostly good and very welcome,” Celeborn said with a weak smile. “Forgive me, _mellon_, I am but a little shocked – it is just that I had not expected to hear anything like that. If you leave to join Arwen and Legolas, I shall accompany you, for as you have just pointed out, I have very good reasons to show my approval and delight of your recent acquisition of a family.”

Glorfindel nodded, yet he felt that Celeborn was not the only one unsettled by the direction their conversation had taken. Still, it was time he faced the truth – he had made Legolas his, and it was more than time he made good on his promise to protect him. His life had changed, just as he had changed Legolas’ life, and Celeborn and Elrond would have to accept it, for Glorfindel could not bring himself to regret it.

  
**53**

Glorfindel smiled, his heart full of affection and also a little relief at the scene he found when he reached the garden Arwen and her friends had chosen for their afternoon retreat. On the way to the glade, Celeborn had been called away, yet he had left with a promise to come and see both Glorfindel and Legolas in the evening.

As Glorfindel had hoped would happen, the Lady of Imladris and his young prince were sitting next to each other, heads bent close as they talked in low voices while watching Gîlríon play with the Lórien maids. Indeed Arwen was all kind attention and smiles as he had foreseen, and Legolas was relaxed and at ease around her as Glorfindel had only rarely seen him when in the company of others. It heartened Glorfindel to see Legolas so easily accepted, and even though he knew his Lord’s kind-hearted daughter did not hold to prejudices and had indeed often spoken out against the violence and hatred springing up after the attack on her mother, it still raised his hopes to one day see Legolas sitting so accepted at Elrond’s table.

When they came close enough for Legolas to realize that his Lord had joined them, Glorfindel once again felt a surge of warmth in his heart at the way the youth's face brightened. And when Legolas, without his otherwise characteristic reticence, reached to take Glorfindel's hand to draw him down next to him, Glorfindel in turn could not resist and wrapped an arm around Legolas' waist, pressing a kiss to his brow at the same time.

Arwen smiled warmly at the open display of affection and Glorfindel chuckled, knowing that he indeed acted as besotted as Celeborn claimed he did. Still, he was happy, happier than he had ever been, and Arwen was aware of that – and glad for him, too.

“Have you been having a good time?” he asked Legolas, then laughed when Gîlríon launched himself at him for an embrace and a kiss before he let himself be sent back to return to his play.

“Oh yes,” Legolas said with a teasing smile. “In fact, the Lady Arwen was just telling me how it is that you came to bear the title of Seneschal. All this time I had thought it had to hold a different meaning in Imladris, and yet here I am told that indeed you should oversee the feasting of your Lord’s guests as well as the distribution of new linen and the stocking of the larder…”

Glorfindel laughed out loud and shook his head in mock exasperation. “Ah, fair Lady, I leave my beloved in your company for a mere hour, only to find both of you laughing at me when I return!”

“Ah, _Seneschal_,” Arwen said, her eyes twinkling with mirth, “it is hardly my fault if you courted the prince under false pretences – and you must admit that it is a well-loved and often retold tale, especially among your own warriors. Who else can claim to be led into battle by their Lord’s majordomo? Or even better, which court can boast of a chamberlain who once slew a Balrog?”

“How _did_ you come to bear that title, then?” Legolas asked curiously. “How is it that Lord Elrond would give one of the most famous warriors of our people the position of Seneschal on his return to these shores? Did he doubt the truth of your claim and seek to test you?”

“From the stories I was told, no one would have doubted him – his _fëa_ shone so brightly with the light of Aman that all those who beheld him were awed,” Arwen said, and Glorfindel smiled ruefully.

“The full story then, _roch neth_? Ai, I had hoped to escape this for a few more months at least, but I guess that this is still better than having it be told by my warriors around the fire – they love nothing better than to see me embarrassed by it.”

Glorfindel paused to steal a sip from the goblet in Legolas’ hands as if to steel himself for what was to come, then made a grimace at the taste of sweet apple cider, light and fit only for children.

“Oh, but certainly I deserve more than that, if you are to torture me with the telling of this particular story?” he exclaimed, so that the youth laughed and quickly emptied the goblet of what remained of the cider.

“I hope that this will be more to your liking, my Lord,” Legolas said as he filled the goblet with a dark, red wine from a so far unopened wineskin instead, holding it with both hands as he presented it to Glorfindel again.

His Lord’s hands rose and came to cover his, holding them in place as he bent his head to drink.

“Oh, much better.” Glorfindel’s voice was soft and almost husky as he looked at Legolas over the rim of the goblet, their hands still touching. Legolas swallowed, staring in fascination at his Lord’s full, wine-stained lips, and then, as if pulled towards Glorfindel by an invisible force, he leaned forward to touch his lips to Glorfindel’s in a short, sweet kiss.

Once again, Glorfindel felt warmth flood his heart at the freely offered affection. He smiled as he held Legolas' eyes, pleased to note that although the youth had blushed at the public nature of the kiss, he had neither lowered his eyes nor tried to move back.

“Your story then, Legolas _nín_,” Glorfindel said and gently put the goblet down, taking Legolas’ hand into his to entwine their fingers together. He could feel Arwen’s approval and hear soft laughter and whispers from the maidens still playing with Gîl, all of them of an age to play the game of courting as well.

“It is a quickly told tale, I fear, for when I first came to Imladris to help Elrond secure and defend the vale, there was already a Captain of the Guard. Elrond of course could not simply demote him, nor would I have wanted him to, yet after several weeks his household grew so fractious at the continued confusion regarding how to seat me, what deference to pay me, how to house, clothe, feed and address me, that Elrond had no choice but to give me a designated position and responsibilities. His Seneschal had only shortly before decided to sail and there had not yet been the time to name a successor, so it was decreed that at least for the time being, that was the title I would hold.”

“Yet you are Captain of the Guard now, are you not?” Legolas asked. “I have heard your warriors call you their Captain – but still you are referred to as Imladris’ Seneschal.”

Glorfindel nodded. “Many years have passed since then, and in the beginning, I was glad that Elrond already had a trustworthy Captain who knew his men well. For you see, it had been a long time since I had fought with a sword in my hand, and my ways were considered ancient – in many ways I had just as much to learn as a green recruit. So I was glad to hold a different position, for it gave me the opportunity to learn my way in this new court by listening carefully when Elrond convened with his councillors, and paying attention to land and people alike when I rode out with his guards. And after several months, a routine had developed which we were all satisfied with. I would take part in Elrond’s council and go over reports, working out strategies and ways to improve our defences, while the Captain of the Guard oversaw the warriors’ training and worked out patrol routes and schedules. It truly was a good solution, making the best of our abilities, and so it was decided that I would keep title and position of Seneschal while sharing all military responsibilities with the then-Captain. Although, in retrospect…”

Glorfindel frowned, then laughed a little and lowered his voice for the following sentences. “The only one who did not seem happy with the arrangement was Erestor. He seemed to dislike me right from the beginning, and now that I think about it, certainly it was but jealousy – he must have coveted the position of Seneschal himself!”

“And now, centuries later, you are Captain of the Guard, yet still hold the title of Seneschal as well. It is no surprise he dislikes you so!” Legolas said with a laugh.

“He was just a junior councillor then, and a recently made one at that, with many domestic responsibilities if I remember right… It has truly been a long time, and I did not pay him much attention then. He was just a quiet young scribe with rather too much of a hunger for advancement – well, and as you know, he has not changed much to his advantage since then,” Glorfindel said and grinned at Legolas’ grimace.

“Certainly you are right in some points, yet there is no need to be unkind,” Arwen interjected in her calm, clear voice. “I know that there is no love lost between the two of you, yet he was a good and patient tutor to me and my brothers. I think there is more to that story, for even though I had not yet been born at that time, I have heard tales according you a part of the blame for the coldness of relations between you.”

“Do you mean the tale where I seduced a lover away from him?” Glorfindel shook his head with a laugh born from true amusement. “Ah, fair Lady, you might well hold your old tutor in affection, yet even so you will have to agree that it is a highly unlikely one. The truth is that Erestor never had a beloved, not now and not then. It is certainly possible that he secretly loved someone, yet he never acted on it. I can assure you, Lady, that I never seduced someone away from him, and if he truly was in love with one who preferred my company, then it was neither my fault nor the fault of he whose affections I enjoyed, for neither of us was aware of it. How could we be, when Erestor never spoke of it to anyone? No, if that tale is true, then Erestor only has himself to blame for never acting on his feelings.”

Glorfindel gently tightened his hold on Legolas’ fingers, then raised Legolas' hand to his mouth to press a kiss to it, seeking to reassure the youth at this mention of past lovers. It truly was time, he thought, to give Legolas proof that his affection was deep and true, and once again he felt his heart swell with tender love when Legolas smiled at him, shy and beautiful and worshipping him for loving him.

“So, there you have your story, Legolas _nín_. And I think that now I am owed a story in return,” he said, trying to lighten the mood, for he could feel that Arwen was still not happy to have the enmity between Erestor and him unresolved.

“A story, my Lord?” Legolas asked, looking alarmed by the prospect. “I do not have any interesting stories to tell…”

“Interesting stories from our favorite prince’s past? I think I have arrived just at the right time!” an all too well known voice drawled behind them, and when Legolas turned around in shock, already feeling his cheeks heat, there stood Haldir, watching him with a raised brow.

“Haldir,” Legolas said weakly and swallowed, remembering only too clearly all that had transpired in the morning.

“Indeed,” the guard agreed, lazily sauntering towards them. “I came to claim the moment you promised me, Lord Glorfindel,” Haldir said and bowed, ”yet this sounds promising… I shall stay and listen to what tale you have to tell, Highness.”

Haldir’s eyes twinkled with amusement and as always, his use of title seemed to indicate a lack of respect for the position thus signified;, yet although Haldir’s arrogant insouciance still made Legolas feel nervous, somehow he was aware that this time, there was no true malice behind his words.

“Then sit for a moment.” With an impatient gesture, Glorfindel invited Haldir to share their blanket, refusing to pay him any attention beyond that. “Indeed, beloved,” he continued instead, pressing another kiss to Legolas’ hand simply for the pleasure of seeing the wonder in the youth’s eyes, “you owe me a tale now, and it is I who will choose the subject.” He was silent for a moment, making a show out of trying to think up some outrageous question, but at last he laughed and took pity on Legolas. “Your horse.”

Legolas stared at him. “Lainiell?”

“Yes,” Glorfindel said, chuckling at the relief on Legolas’ face. “You told me that she comes from your realm’s most coveted bloodlines – that her sire was indeed your father’s most prized stud. So how did you get her? I do not think your father gave her to you as a present?”

“A daughter of Amlug, pure-bred grandson of famed Alagos himself? My father would rather have cut off his own hand!” Legolas laughed.

“That shaggy pony?” Haldir’s voice dripped disbelief, but for once, Legolas refused to be intimidated.

“Oh, in terms of showiness she is no equal to the sleek palfreys you seem to be so fond of here in Lórien, but in Mirkwood, we breed our horses for strong muscles, and even stronger hearts. She is inbred on both sides to Alagos himself, and it shows!” he enthused. “Compact and flexible, with a broad chest and powerful hindquarters – she might not be equal to my Lord’s Asfaloth when racing on an even track, but she is bred to a dense forest filled with dangers, and there, she is truly without equal!

"But to answer your question, my Lord, one year my brother promised me the choice of one of his young horses for my begetting day. It was to be one of the untrained ones, a two- or three-year-old I could start to work with, but a few weeks before my begetting day, his most prized broodmare foaled – twins.”

Legolas swallowed and shook his head. “I had seen it happen before, twice. One time the mare just barely survived, and the other mare died together with the foals. This time, both foals were still alive, although they were tiny and weak. We tried our best, but one foal died after a few hours.

"The other one – my Lainiell – was very weak, and her hind legs were deformed so that for several days, she needed help to get up. My brother had given up on her, but I just could not… She was from the best of our bloodlines, and despite her weakness, you could see the defiance in her, the will to live! I told him that I wanted her for my begetting day present, and although he thought that it was wasted on a foal that would not live more than a week or two, he accepted.

"It was hard work, for I had to help her up every few hours to drink. I slept next to their stable for a week, but as you can see, it was worth it. She quickly grew stronger, and once she could move on her own, her legs righted themselves. Thus I now own a mare that can claim Alagos as great-grandsire on both sides, and I have often been envied for it.”

Glorfindel smiled with open affection, loving this side of Legolas which was so rarely seen – a Legolas who was animated and happy, passionate about a subject and proud of his knowledge. Glorfindel swore to himself that he would make certain to see it more often.

“I am sorry you cannot breed her. Mayhap one day we will be able to procure one of your realm’s stallions…”

Legolas smiled. “They would never let one of the better bloodlines leave the forest. Yet mayhap one day there will be an opportunity… Lainiell is still young, after all.”

“Celeirdúr still holds you in great affection, I am certain of it,” Glorfindel said softly. “Maybe he could send a young, unproven stallion with the messengers – they need not know if we let him have a few hours with Lainiell in a meadow somewhere.”

Legolas nodded, although he did not answer, and Glorfindel knew that it was something he did not want to allow himself to believe in.

“Still, now that you have given me your story, it is your turn to demand one from one of us,” he continued, hoping that it would distract Legolas from his memories. “Since I have already told you my story, maybe you should demand one from Arwen or Haldir?”

Legolas frowned and gave the guard a measuring look. Haldir had teased him mercilessly, and this was a golden opportunity to repay him in kind. For a moment, Legolas toyed with the idea of asking him just how he was as knowledgeable as its owner about the Master Saddler’s shop… Certainly that would pay Haldir back for all the games he had played on him. But then, he remembered how Haldir had saved him, and how, despite all his obnoxiousness, for the first time there had been true kindness shining through. No – he would not needlessly embarrass the guard in front of Arwen.

Still, there _was_ a question he could ask, one that might perhaps make for an interesting tale. He swallowed and looked around, making certain that the Lórien maids were out of earshot – Arwen, he wagered, would certainly have heard all of the sordid details of his life from her brothers already, even if she had been kind enough to blithely pretend that he was just a dear friend’s beloved.

“Actually,” he said slowly, “there is something that I would like to ask you, Haldir. How did you know who I was? When you came to Imladris and told my Lord that I was Legolas…”

"Oh, that was not the first time I saw you,” Haldir said and smirked at the shocked look this got him. “I had seen you before – in Mirkwood. I have to admit that I was not spying on you particularly; in fact, when I saw you I thought you were just an especially unassuming little horse guard. But then, later on, I heard one of the others refer to you as _Prince Legolas_… That got my attention. Be glad that I had to leave the forest that very day to meet one of Lord Elrond’s agents, or who knows what might have happened…”

Legolas paled, no doubt remembering what had happened when later on, another came upon him in the forest, and Glorfindel wrapped one arm around the youth's waist to hold him close.

“Haldir spent some years in Imladris,” he explained softly. “He only returned to Lórien to take on the position of Marchwarden a few years ago. As I think you have realized, he is not very fond of your father, and thus, for a while he found it more fulfilling to work for Lord Elrond instead of guarding Lórien’s borders.”

“You were a _spy_?” Legolas asked with such patent disbelief that Haldir gifted him with another smirk.

“A good one, too – after all, in the end I proved to be the only one able to recognize Thranduil’s youngest. Be glad, Highness, for now you are wearing silks and velvets instead of being put to work currying your Lord’s horses!”

Legolas huffed but refused to dignify that with a reply while Glorfindel shook his head at Haldir.

“Do you truly intend to make your situation even worse, _guard_?” he asked pointedly while Arwen frowned at them all.

“I think we have heard enough tales for today,” she said firmly, and Legolas nodded.

“Indeed – I thank you for your kind company, my Lady, but I think that now I should go and join Gîl for a while.” He picked up the small ball made from soft cloth that had rolled to his feet and laughed when Gîlríon came running towards them, grabbing his hand and begging his _ada_ to come play with him.

Haldir watched Legolas go join the game, smirking to himself at the sweetness of the scene when Legolas picked up the exuberant child for a quick kiss. “You can say what you want about the little prince, but he does make lovely children,” he sighed, snickering at the look this got him from both Glorfindel and Arwen. “Get him with child again, and do it quickly… It suits him!” he suggested, then raised his hands at the expression of cold disapproval on Glorfindel’s face. “Do not worry, I have apologized for my treatment of him, and he knows that it will not happen again. Now if I could have those minutes you promised me, Lord Glorfindel? I apologize for depriving you of his company, my Lady Arwen, but it will not take long.”

Glorfindel was still frowning, but with one last look at Legolas and Gîlríon he reluctantly got up, hoping that for once, Haldir would be satisfied to not cause them further problems.

 

54

 

“Now what is so important that it cannot even wait until tomorrow?“ Glorfindel demanded ungraciously of Haldir, once they had walked far enough away to be out of earshot.

“Oh, I had quite an enlightening conversation with your little prince today…”

“If you think that your little jibes are amusing,” Glorfindel said, his face darkening with anger, “I suggest that you stop now, for they are not.”

Haldir shrugged insolently. “They make him blush – a sight that I think you appreciate, no? I have to admit that he is quite a sweet little thing, if you like the bashful, dependent, domestic sort. I had not thought you did, Lord, but I am certain that there is a charm to his vulnerability.”

Glorfindel stopped, his expression dangerous. “Have you truly come here only to insult my beloved?” he asked incredulously. “I know you pride yourself on your obnoxiousness, but when Legolas told me that you apologized, and moreso that you even defended him, I truly was glad to hear it! It does not please me to see you demoted, but believe me, if you hurt or insult my beloved in any way, I shall go to your Lord with my grievances.”

Haldir laughed and raised his hands. “Peace, Lord – you are right, I did not come to insult him. I was just curious… Certainly you will admit that relations between the two of you have much changed since I last saw you. You must forgive me; I just wanted to hear for myself what position he holds in your life. A year ago, you would not have named him beloved – a year ago, you would have laughed at my jibes and watched with pleasure how every word made him tremble with miserable shame. Can you truly fault me for my treatment of him? I had not known how things had changed between you in the meantime. He used to be nothing more than a symbol of how our enemy had fallen, and it is only now that I have come to know him for more than Thranduil’s son. I made a mistake, and I freely admit it, for it is his brother who deserves my scorn, not your prince.”

“And you have come to tell me that?” Glorfindel asked, still not quite appeased.

“Ah, had I known that the story of the beautiful, lonely prince would touch your heart so, I would have taken him with me then and brought him to you as a present!” Haldir snickered at Glorfindel’s expression. “Of course, I might have been tempted to sample that sweetness for myself, and who knows where that might have led? It is obvious to everyone that you cherish the fact that he has never known another’s touch.”

Glorfindel shrugged. “I am vain,” he said simply. “And Legolas knows my faults well.”

“He does?” Haldir’s lips twitched as if he were trying to suppress his laughter. “Then he is not afraid of the consequences if you found out that he kissed me?”

Glorfindel smiled slowly when Haldir finally came to what had to be the heart of the matter, his eyes cold as he studied the former Marchwarden. “Is that what this is all about? Well, at least that explains his bashfulness when faced with you. I do not know what it is you expect from me. Do you think that I will punish him for something which we both know is solely your fault? Until this morning, Legolas dreaded your very presence – you have humiliated him like no other, save for myself. I wager that he pushed you away as soon as he realized what you were doing; and the Valar help you if you caused him yet more anguish! For my Legolas does not love you, nor will he ever. He does not lust for you either.”

“So calm a reaction; I had not anticipated that!”

Haldir was smiling again, and Glorfindel felt his ire rising at the sight. Did Haldir think that he could play with him?

“To speak the truth – and to reassure you, Lord – I was but teasing him. I was well aware of what his reaction would be like. And he did not disappoint; he truly loves you. No, _love_ is the wrong word… He adores you, he worships you, as if you were one of the Valar themselves and not a mere _edhel_.”

“Then for what reason do you try to sow disaccord between us?” Glorfindel demanded, bewildered by the direction the conversation had taken.

“I was curious about what he is to you, since I know now what you are to him.” Haldir was unapologetic, although his voice had lost its characteristic drawl. “Do not misunderstand me. I am not trying to defend or protect him; I do not have the right for that, for I do not know him well enough, nor would he want me to. Yet I do know you, Lord. And I know for a fact that these last few weeks, a certain Master Smith of wide renown would not take any new orders, for he was busy with a twin set of blades for Lord Elrond’s sons – as well as another blade which he would not say whom it was commissioned by.”

Glorfindel sighed. “Ai, ‘'twas to be a surprise!” he said plaintively. “Please, tell me you did not spoil it for him – it is the first begetting day he will spend with someone who truly cares for him!”

“Such a romantic you are, my Lord!” Haldir grinned, then shook his head. “Fear not, I did not say a word. Yet, now that I have seen him – now that I have sparred with him! – there is indeed something I was wondering. It is why I asked for this conversation. Was it your idea to have him learn swordplay?”

Glorfindel looked confused. “My idea? You could say so, maybe, but if you think that I forced him into it, you are mistaken! He was jubilant at the chance! And if you refer to the way you beat him – why, Haldir, he has held a sword for less than a year, and then only wooden practice swords! It is hardly fair to judge him in a fight against you, and you well know it! Yet if it turns out that the way of the sword is not for him, I will not be disappointed either. It is not for everyone, and I shall love him just as much if he wants to learn the healing arts, breed horses, or spend his time transcribing Silvan lore.”

“So it is he who dreams of becoming a great swordsman, and you who are so besotted that you would grant him any wish?” Haldir snickered at Glorfindel’s expression. “Ai, I had not thought it of you, but it is true – sometimes we are too close to see what is obvious to everyone else. Do you truly not realize that his desire to wield a sword stems from nothing but the desire to please you? He idolizes you, just as he has idolized his father. Of course he wants to become a mighty warrior! It is what he thinks will please you, as he must have once thought of making his father proud. But the truth, as you should well know, is that he is not meant to wield a sword.”

Glorfindel’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “If that is meant to be another jibe about how he is meant for bedplay, and not swordplay…”

Haldir snorted. “Hardly, though you well know that once, that was exactly what you yourself thought. But no. It seems to have escaped you, even though you must have spent much time staring at his naked body, that your little prince is not built like a Noldorin warrior. He is such a slender little thing! All the easier to force into submission, I suppose, but because of it he will never become truly accomplished with a longsword. It is the small amount of Silvan blood which still flows in his line that shows in him. I have trained many like him, which you know well, Lord – and I must tell you that his strength is in his agility. A truly good warrior he shall only ever be with the bow, or the long knives. The longsword… The only thing you will accomplish there is to make him feel that he is failing you yet again.”

Haldir stopped there, and Glorfindel looked at him in amazement. “That was not quite what I was expecting... Why, Haldir, one could almost suspect that you had a heart, to care about him so!”

Now Glorfindel was the one who laughed at Haldir's disgusted expression, but soon he grew thoughtful again.

“He only ever spoke of a sword, and as that is what we mainly rely on in Imladris – and is also the weapon I excel at, as you pointed out – I never questioned that decision. After all, it is the same training all the other youths go through...”

“Yes, all the other Noldorin youths – who are of course built for the longsword. I myself prefer the sword to the knives that are more usual among the Silvan elves, as you know, because that is what comes natural to me. I have inherited the build of a Sindarin warrior of old from one of my father's ancestors. Yet this way is not for everyone, and if you want to spare your prince the anguish of failing yet again, you might want to look into the way our Silvan warriors fight.”

Glorfindel sighed at Haldir's words and shook his head. “Truly, I never even thought about it – have I been as blind as Thranduil, expecting him to be like myself, and failing to see that his differences simply mean that his strengths lie in different places?”

“His strengths...” There was a tone of disbelief in Haldir's voice. “I fail to see those, but if you say so...”

“Can you truly not see them, Haldir?” Glorfindel asked softly. “Can you see his fears and insecurities, and fail to realize that it was you and I, and countless others like us, who brought them into being? Can you see his kindness, his trust, loyalty and compassion, and fail to see them for what they are? They are not weaknesses, Haldir – love is always strength. Mayhap they are different to the strengths of a warrior, but are they not the very things we give our lives to protect?”

“Infatuated like a girl, that is what you are, Lord,” Haldir said with a smirk. “There might be truth in what you say, yet it will do you no good in the long run to fail to acknowledge his weaknesses. His utter dependence on you – how can that appeal? Are you truly so vain to find it flattering how one so emotionally damaged completely depends on what scraps of affection you accord him? I know it is not so, Lord! You desire submission in bed, yes; but in a companion, slavish adoration and utter dependence could not appeal to you, not for more than a few years. And then where will the little thing be, when you cast him away? The truth is that he has never learned to _live_ – he cannot even order his own life. No, I spent a day with him, and I can tell you that in truth, you do not have one child... You have two children that are both dependent on you.”

Glorfindel sighed but gave Haldir a patient look. “And do you truly think that I do not know that? Look at him, Haldir – of course he is a child! He will see his 42nd begetting day in little more than a week; what do you expect of him? Can you not remember what you felt at such a tender age? The swirl of emotions when you beheld a beautiful maid or a strapping youth, the terrible insecurities when you first approached one who set your heart to fluttering, the doubts and questions as you thought about which path to follow in your future... It is a difficult age, and yet it was easier for us who had grown up loved, certain of ourselves, with friends to confide in. Legolas grew up certain of only one thing: that he did not mean _anything_ to anyone, save perhaps for his brother who nevertheless could not spare him any time, due to his duties as crown prince. Nay, Haldir, do not belittle Legolas' strength. Could you have done what he did? I am not so certain that I could have done it myself...

“Raped when you were still an innocent who had never known another's touch before, pregnant even though that should have been impossible, reviled and exiled by your own father – would you have had the strength to go and live among your enemies who never let you forget that they despised you, to go to the bed of he who violated you, allowing him to humiliate and use you in ways you did not even know were possible... And all that just so that your child would live, and lead a better life than the one that had been given to you?”

Glorfindel closed his eyes, his expression pained, and his voice was soft and thoughtful as he continued. “When he first came to me... I do not think that he expected to live for much longer than the birth of the child. Who knows, maybe that even gave him the strength to do it, to know that no matter what torments I devised, he would not have to endure it for long...”

“Now you are feeling sorry for yourself, just as Legolas likes to do. Mayhap you are better suited to each other than I thought,” Haldir said dryly. “Still, this seems to mean that you are aware that he thinks himself a whore – not because you give him fine clothes of velvet and silk, but because he thinks that he has nothing but his body to give you in exchange for your love, your teaching and your encouragement of him.”

Glorfindel sighed sadly. “It will take a long time for him to believe in his own worth, I am aware of that. But I do love him, Haldir. I love him as he is now, and I love him for what I know he can become.” For a moment he hesitated, but then he took Haldir's shoulder in a firm grip, meeting his eyes unflinchingly. “Can you keep a secret? Just for a few days? A secret that concerns only Legolas and me?”

Haldir's eyes narrowed, but he nodded. “If it does not concern or imperil the Golden Wood or its inhabitants, then yes – I will keep your secret.”

Glorfindel smiled slowly, his eyes growing soft, and he sighed again as he thought about what would soon come to pass.

“I will wed him,” he said simply, his heart filling with warmth at the words. “I will make him mine forever – and become his in return. He will return to Imladris as my betrothed, my beloved, riding at my side with a silver ring on his finger.”

Haldir's eyes widened. “You would bind your fëa to his? To be solely his until the end of this world? Glorfindel – 'tis folly!”

“Folly?” Glorfindel laughed at Haldir's reaction. “It is folly that I did not do it sooner! I desire him, and only him, and no thought gives me greater pleasure than to return to Aman with him and our children one day, to build ourselves a home there, and live a life of peace and joy.”

Haldir grimaced and shook his head. “Not for me, such things... but it truly appeals to you, does it not? A maiden's dream, it seems to me, but then, their company does seem to make you happy. Very well then – mayhap one day I shall leave these shores as well, although I cannot see it, and if I do, I shall come and visit your home, Lord. I will expect to find you surrounded by your brood then: an entire company of adorable, golden-locked children playing at Legolas' feet, and another infant in his arms, suckling his sweet milk.”

Haldir snickered to himself as he imagined it, and Glorfindel shook his head with a long-suffering sigh.

“It _is_ sweet, you know,” he pointed out, “the sweetest thing I have ever tasted!”, and then it was he who laughed while Haldir grimaced in distaste.

“Very well, I shall say no more!” Haldir raised his hands in surrender, shaking his head. “Ai – could you not just have taken a maiden? The more you say, the more I think that there truly is no difference with him in your bed!”

Glorfindel sobered, and the look he now gave Haldir had lost most of its mirth. “From what I have heard, you stripped him to find out for yourself that there truly is no maiden hiding beneath his clothes.”

“True... but he is no longer suckling the child now, is he? A pity you weaned him, I wonder what he looked like when-”

“Enough!” Glorfindel exclaimed, his anger roused anew. “That is more than enough, Haldir! Do you not know when to stop? One could almost think that you _want_ to stay a mere guard!”

Haldir shrugged, still unapologetic despite Glorfindel's darkened countenance. “You make it too easy. Although I guess that now you are to be wedded, I shall have to restrain myself. I still cannot see the appeal in it for myself, but since you truly seem to desire this family, I wish you everlasting joy – and a few more children for your prince to cuddle.”

“Thank you,” Glorfindel said earnestly. “I know we will be happy – if not here, then in Aman, although I do not desire to leave Middle-earth just yet. And if in time the Valar gift us with another child, none would be happier than I for such a blessing.” He turned away from Haldir to watch how in the distance, a laughing Gîlríon pursued Legolas who fled from him, only to let himself be caught after a moment, reversing their roles as it now was the child who tried to escape.

“I am happier than I have ever been, even when I served my King Turgon before the fall of Gondolin. This – it is all I have ever wanted.” He watched with quiet happiness how it was now one of the maidens' turn to pursue the others and how naturally, how joyfully Legolas was a part of this game. Then he turned back to Haldir, giving him a thoughtful look.

Once more, the Galadhel was smiling slightly – almost patronizingly, Glorfindel realized, and he shook his head at the guard's air of superiority. True, this life which he desired for himself – which he was certain Legolas desired as well – was not something that appealed to Haldir, and he could accept that, yet all the same, it was not simply a _maiden's dream_, as Haldir had called it. It was no romantic notion that made him dream of a tranquil life in Aman with his family, nor was it the wish of one too young to realize that simple happiness took as much effort to achieve and preserve as the more exciting duties of a warrior.

No, it was no bland, uneventful life that awaited him with Legolas by his side. They might not desire fame and glory as much as Haldir did, yet Glorfindel did not think that they would need great battles and events to save them from tedium. For beneath the steady warmth of their love for each other, there lay the bright, hot embers of deep, abiding passion. They would have both – they would always have both, love and lust at once; Glorfindel was certain of it. And if Haldir doubted it, well, there were ways to show him that it was a mistake to deride his _infatuation_ as that of a maiden, for the passion hidden away beneath Legolas' insecurities never failed to rouse him once it had been coaxed to the surface.

“That was an interesting selection you picked for us,” he began, and now it was he who gave Haldir a look of cool superiority. “I think you should ask Legolas if he was satisfied with your choices. He will blush quite beautifully.” He only barely suppressed a grin when Haldir's eyebrows rose and he looked from him to Legolas.

“If you think that he is but a maiden, then you should see him as he has allowed me to see him. There is such strength in him!” Glorfindel continued, goading Haldir. “And as it looks like Gîl will have tired himself out, I shall make good use of your selection tonight.”

He smirked at Haldir whose eyes were dark now with unhidden curiosity, and a good part of it desire as well.

“I shall wed one who has given me the sweet, quiet joy of a family – and one who gives me such passion, such all-encompassing surrender that it leaves me humbled every time, and burning with desire for him night after night. I have known the surrender of many, Haldir, and yet all else pales when compared to what I find with him.”

Glorfindel gave Haldir another smile, and this time, there was compassion in it.

“I will know such joy, Haldir, and it will be all I have ever wanted. I will lose nothing, but what I will gain... Ah, what I will gain is a love so deep and warm, that the very light of Laurelin pales beside it.”

\---------------------  
_edhel_ \- elf  
\---------------------

 

55

 

When they returned to where Arwen was still sitting, Glorfindel joined the game as well, so that Gîlríon shrieked with joy when he picked him up and whirled him through the air. Legolas was breathless, and resplendent in his happiness, and despite Haldir's well-founded doubts, Glorfindel knew that he could give Legolas a life of happiness. In any case, it would be better than the life he would have led in his father's forest, squandering his talents among the horse guards, in all probability only to be given away later to wed the daughter of some minor noble he could never love.

No... he would always regret how they had first met, how he had let anger blind him so that even when the youth had come to him carrying his child, he had kept abusing him. Yet all the same, he knew with perfect clarity that what there was now, love and joy and deep, abiding affection, was good and as it should be.

Haldir was right to voice his doubts, for Legolas was indeed dependent on him for all things, even his emotional well-being, but that, too, had its cause in events of the past. No... Glorfindel remembered Celeborn's counsel, to patiently and faithfully love the youth year after year until his fëa's wounds had healed, and he knew that that was what he would do – and that the Legolas he would come to know one day in the future who was submissive, yet certain of his worth, would have his love then, just as he did now.

He thought of what else Haldir had told him and wanted to sigh. The sword he had commissioned – he had so desired to make Legolas happy, especially since he had realized that it had been the youth's begetting day when he had stumbled across him in Mirkwood for the second time. His heart ached with pain when he thought of it now, how full of despair the youth had been then, how broken – he had not even dared to tell his family of how he had been violated! And then, to make it worse, he had forced Legolas to beg for it, and the youth had just given in, all alone out in the forest with one who delighted in hurting and humiliating him, when by all rights he should have been with his family, celebrating his begetting day.

The previous year, Glorfindel had not even known that it was his begetting day, although then, with Gîl's birth just a little more than a week past and Legolas still weak and sore, he had at least been tender and caring. Yet he had never even thought of asking the youth about the date of his conception, and so Legolas' first begetting day spent in Imladris had passed unacknowledged.

Glorfindel had much to make up for, and he had thought that surprising Legolas with a fine sword made to his measurements by one of the most renowned sword smiths of Middle-earth would at least be a beginning – certainly it would ensure that it would be the most joyful begetting day the youth had ever known.

Should he now get him a bow instead, or a twin set of long knives, as Haldir had suggested? Glorfindel gave Legolas a thoughtful look, realizing that the Galadhel had of course been right – Legolas had the slender gracefulness of the Silvan elves, and in time, hopefully their lethal quickness as well. Yet nevertheless he doubted that a bow or knives would be as welcome to the youth as the sword – to Legolas, it was not only a weapon, but also a symbol of all that he had ever wanted yet had been denied.

No, there would be time enough later to get him bow and knives. Glorfindel intended to bring Legolas joy on his begetting day, and that was what the sword would accomplish.

When the ball of cloth hit his chest, Glorfindel made a sound of surprise, and Gîlríon giggled in delight at seeing his _atto_ so unprepared. The game of tag had been abandoned once more for the ball, and Glorfindel held it thoughtfully in his hands for a moment before he threw it to Legolas, smiling with helpless love at the youth's joy at something so simple. But then, in all probability he had not known very much of this in his own childhood...

When he caught the ball, Legolas deliberated for a moment before – with a look that was almost mischievous – he threw it to Haldir, who was sitting with Arwen. The guard only just barely managed to catch it, and they all had to laugh at his expression, especially the maidens, who beheld the infamous Marchwarden with trepidation as well as awe.

“Oh no,“ Haldir said grimly. “I am not going to play children's games with you, Prince!”

Legolas smiled... and Glorfindel felt his heart fill with warmth once more when he realized that Legolas felt so at ease in this company that he actually dared to tease the guard.

“Are you not to be my personal guard during my stay, Haldir?” Legolas asked, causing the maidens to giggle once more. “I might need your protection here!”

Haldir groaned but got up, wandering over to them with the ball in his hands. Arwen followed him to join in the game as well, and Haldir put the ball into her hands before he turned to Legolas with a smirk. “I doubt you need my protection here,” he drawled, “not with your besotted protector hovering over your every step.”

Legolas laughed at that and gave Glorfindel a tender look, much to Haldir's obvious disgust.

“Yet before I leave you to your game, Prince...Was the selection I purchased for you satisfactory? I hope it met with approval from such a connoisseur as your Lord...”

Now, at last, Legolas blushed – as beautifully as Glorfindel had foreseen - though he did not lower his eyes, he noted with pleasure.

“It did...” Legolas said, a little breathless at his own daring. “I have to thank you – your choice met with approval from both of us.”

Haldir's eyes narrowed again, as if he were trying to imagine Legolas as Glorfindel had seen him only such a short time ago – the tight body stretched to its limits as he was forced to accommodate the thick, unyielding handle of the flogger, and Glorfindel nearly groaned with sudden lust when he remembered the depth of his prince's submission.

“Very well!” Haldir murmured, sounding almost surprised. “I am of course at your disposal, and should you need advice for further purchases... I would be delighted to assist you. Yet for now, I think it is time for me to leave – I am certain you and your Lord will have a delightful evening playing _games_...”

Legolas blushed some more at that, but the glance he gave Glorfindel showed that he would not be averse to indeed indulge in some more games, once Gîl was asleep that evening – and Glorfindel felt his heart beat hard and fast with breathless excitement when he contemplated some of the other objects Haldir had purchased for them.

As Glorfindel had expected, with the excitement of visiting the market in the morning and the afternoon of games, Gîl had indeed tired himself out. They had a quick dinner in their talan of bread and cheese, and when they bathed the child afterwards, he was already half-asleep, tiredly snuggling into his bedding without even demanding the usual story and cuddling.

Glorfindel gently kissed his brow and then stood, making way for Legolas to do the same. “It was a good day, was it not?” he contentedly asked when they left the small room, tenderly touching the back of his hand to Legolas' cheek. The youth sighed and turned into his touch, raising his own hand to keep Glorfindel's in place.

“Very good,” he agreed softly with a smile of such sweetness that Glorfindel found himself kissing him before they had even closed the door to Gîl's small bedroom. As always, it was perfection – Legolas' surrendering to him so naturally, so gracefully, that Glorfindel felt drunk on his sweetness as if he were a fine wine.

“Legolas _nín_,” he whispered against his prince's lips when they finally parted. “Come – take that bottle of mead over there, and a goblet for us to share, and then let us retire to the sitting room for a while.” He himself stayed back for a moment to fetch the box with Haldir's purchases, a slow smile appearing on his lips as he mused over which of the various implements he should introduce to his bashful beloved today.

When he entered the sitting room with the familiar, dreaded parcel in his hands, Legolas made a soft sound of dismay and blushed so admirably that Glorfindel chuckled. “You truly make it irresistible!” he said warmly and put the box down on a table. Legolas had sat down on the settee, curled against a plump cushion with the filled goblet waiting in his hands, and when Glorfindel joined him, he first had to steal a kiss before he took a sip of the mead. “Mmh... you are still far sweeter,” he sighed, then watched with a smile how the youth tried to hide his blush behind the goblet, taking a deep drink of the golden liquid as well.

“Arwen has fallen in love with our Gîl, as does everyone who meets him,” Glorfindel said contentedly. “Once we return home, I think we will know many more afternoons like this. Ai, can you imagine that once it was she who was so little, chasing me through her mother's gardens?”

“I hope her brother will not disapprove,” Legolas said softly. “Yet she is beautiful, and kind, as you told me she was, and I would be glad to spend more days like this.”

“You will,” Glorfindel said warmly, pulling Legolas close so that the youth's back came to rest against his chest, laughing when Legolas gasped and clutched at the goblet with both hands to keep from spilling the mead.

“The best of the day is yet to come, though,” Glorfindel murmured against his ear, then indulged himself for a moment by following the lines of the elegantly curved tip with his tongue. Legolas shivered in his arms, still helplessly clutching the goblet, and at last Glorfindel had mercy and took it from his trembling hands, to put it down in a more secure place on the table.

“You... brought the parcel,” Legolas said weakly while Glorfindel's hands slowly moved across his chest to open the first button of his tunic. Glorfindel smiled again at the mixture of trepidation and excitement in his voice – he had not been certain how he would play with the youth today, but now, he had an idea. Not the humiliation of the flogger today, no, although the memory of the youth helplessly struggling to accommodate it, pleading for mercy with tears in his eyes, still set his heart to thunder in his chest with voracious desire. Yet that could wait for another time as well – after all the events of today, Glorfindel thought as he continued to bare Legolas' chest, his prince deserved something more playful, something that would give him pleasure foremost.

And then, there were Haldir's words about Legolas suckling another golden-locked child... Glorfindel wanted to groan as he imagined it, Legolas tenderly cradling another infant in his arms, his chest soft and swollen with his sweet milk, and although Glorfindel had indeed never felt desire for the curved body of a maiden, imagining the youth so changed, so sensitive once more had him achingly hard within mere moments.

“Ah, Valar!” he breathed absentmindedly, squeezing a bared, erect nipple between thumb and forefinger. “How I long to taste your sweet milk once more!” Legolas gave him an aching cry and arched into his touch with such need that Glorfindel distractedly wondered whether it were his fingers or indeed the thought of surrendering his body to his Lord in such an intimate way once more that aroused him so.

“You want it too, _roch neth_,” he said decisively, and Legolas moaned again when Glorfindel's fingers moved to tease the other nipple.

“Would you not like that? Tell me, Legolas!” Glorfindel demanded, pinching the erect nub so that Legolas gasped.

“Ai... I would!” he whimpered and demandingly pressed his chest against Glorfindel's hands for more.

Glorfindel chuckled softly against his neck. “I truly love your sensitivity!” he sighed. “Such sweet sounds you make when I do this...” He gently scratched across the offered nipple, laughing at Legolas' moan, and then pushed the youth into a sitting position again.

Legolas was beautiful... His eyes soft and dark with passion, lips swollen and bruised and his hair mussed from Glorfindel's fingers...

Glorfindel smirked as he deftly unbraided the slender braids of youth Legolas had put into his hair for the afternoon, then could not hold back a moan himself when his prince's hair finally fell free, spilling over his chest and back – the very picture of innocence, if it had not been for his bared, reddened nipples and the look of wanton need in his eyes.

“Ah, perfect, Legolas _nín_!” Glorfindel breathed, openly admiring the enchanting vision before him. He smiled again to see how tight Legolas' leggings had become and teasingly drew a finger along the bulge, chuckling when the youth gasped and tried to catch Glorfindel's hand to keep it pressed against his need.

“Becoming rebellious now, _roch neth_?” he asked wickedly and was answered with a look of dismay when he reached for the box. “I would be good, if I were you – Haldir left me just the right gear to break a willful colt's spirit...”

“I am not willful, my Lord!” Legolas said weakly, his eyes firmly fixed on Glorfindel's hands as they searched through the parcel, although Glorfindel took care to not let the youth see what was concealed inside.

After a moment, he found what he had been looking for and withdrew his hands, yet still kept what he had chosen hidden from Legolas' eyes.

“You have never known this before, _roch neth_... I think you will like this! Or perhaps not, but in that case **I** will, even more so.” He smirked at Legolas' soft moan and again reached out to tease a sensitive nipple with the pad of his thumb until Legolas closed his eyes and pressed his chest demandingly against his hands.

“Like that, do you?” he asked, Legolas' breathless moan of agreement making him chuckle once more, and then, with a wicked smile, he let the first clamp close around an achingly erect nipple.

Legolas' eyes flew open and he cried out softly, instinctively trying to flinch back from the painful pressure around this most tender of places – but there was no escape for him, not with Glorfindel's powerful body keeping him pressed against the backrest. Then Glorfindel touched him there, his fingers somehow increasing the pressure of the cruel metal until Legolas gasped and helplessly reached out as if to still his Lord's hands, his eyes gleaming with tears.

“Please...” he whispered, then closed his eyes in despair when Glorfindel laughed at his misery.

“Ah, poor Legolas,” Glorfindel said with a wicked smile. “I fear your Lord has a taste for your tears today...”

Legolas sobbed softly at his words, and when Glorfindel opened his palm to show another of the cruel little devices, he whimpered weakly and shook his head. “Ai! Please, no, my Lord... I _cannot_!” he breathed, tears brimming on his lashes like dew on grass in the morning, so that Glorfindel moaned once more at the loveliness of it all.

“I am not in a merciful mood today, _roch neth_,” he warned, his voice dark and hoarse with desire, and when he closed the clamp around the other nipple, Legolas once more arched against him with a soft cry, trembling and panting. Glorfindel adjusted the pressure to an even crueler level, and finally Legolas turned his head away in surrender, tears spilling down his face although his chest was still arched forward, obediently keeping himself available to his Lord's tormenting hands.

“Hush now, _roch neth_,” Glorfindel murmured at last and pulled Legolas close once more, holding the trembling youth until he had calmed a little, and the sharp bite of the clamps had faded into a duller ache. “See... that is better now, is it not? You will have to bear it for me, but not overly long, I promise you that.”

Legolas nodded miserably, well aware that he had no choice in the matter, and hid his tear-stained face against Glorfindel's throat for a moment, wanting only for his Lord to soothe him even though it had been he who was the cause of this pain.

“Ai, how shall I play with you now?” Glorfindel mused with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Mmh, _roch neth_, just imagine how it would feel if I took you like this, on your hands and knees, or bent over a table maybe – I could put weights onto the clamps, and they would swing and tug and ache just so, every time I moved within your sweet, tight body...”

Legolas gasped as if he had already done it and shook his head beseechingly. “Please, no, my Lord! I will do whatever you ask, but please, not that!”

“No heavy weights then? I think you would enjoy that, after you got used to it,” Glorfindel murmured thoughtfully, then laughed at the youth's dismay. “Very well, not the weights then. Actually, there is something else I would enjoy seeing – or rather, enjoy hearing on you!” He took up the box again and, to Legolas' dismayed disbelief, took out two small, golden bells on short chains.

“This will sound well as accompaniment to your sweet moans and whimpers – do you not think so, _roch neth_?”

“Ai, Valar...” Legolas breathed and closed his eyes, his face flushing once again with embarrassment as Glorfindel fastened the bells to the clamps.

“You can try not to move, but I do not think you will succeed,” Glorfindel said with a smirk. “You know I can become... _inventive_ if you resist my will.”

Legolas swallowed, looking down at his chest – the cruel clamps so tight around the sensitive flesh, and in contrast the small, golden bells that looked so fragile, _pretty_ even in contrast to the cold, polished metal of the tormenting devices.

“Pretty!” Glorfindel breathed now, as if he had read his thoughts. “Ah, Legolas _vain nín_... Does it embarrass you? If you do not like pretty jewelry, the next time you will just have to beg me for the weights...” He touched one finger to a cruelly squeezed nipple and laughed softly when that made Legolas gasp and try to move back, the bells tinkling for the first time.

“Mmh, just imagine that mingling with the sound of your moans,” Glorfindel teased. “I am going to enjoy playing with you so very much – and you will enjoy it too, _roch neth_, even though you blush and cry so.”

Legolas sighed in answer, his eyes falling closed as he surrendered himself to the magic of his Lord's husky voice. The clamps still ached, yet it was no longer the sharp pain from the beginning that had made him cry out... it was a duller ache now, ever-present but no longer so painful that it forced tears to his eyes. It was the kind of ache he had felt before, when Glorfindel had relentlessly teased him with fingers and teeth, and it made Legolas feel restless, wanting to flinch back from any touch yet desiring to arch into it all the same.

“Squirming with need... Just how I like you best,” Glorfindel murmured, his breath hot against his cheek. Legolas swallowed when once again a finger brushed against his swollen length, realizing only now that – despite what Glorfindel had done to him – he was achingly hard.

“Ah, Elbereth!” he breathed, ready to beg now to be used in any way his Lord pleased, and just at that moment there was a knock at the door, and a polite voice asking their forgiveness for the disturbance.

“Rúmil...” Glorfindel said with a frown while Legolas gave him a look of wide-eyed panic.

“Do not let him enter!” he pleaded. “Please, my Lord, you cannot – not like this! Please, take them off at least!”

Glorfindel only chuckled. “Ah, no, _roch neth_. I did say I wanted to break your willful spirit, and I think that these will make sure you are much better behaved while our visitor is around!”

He buttoned the tunic once more, smiling when Legolas hissed at the way the linen scratched across the tightly squeezed, oversensitive nipples, then got up and called out for Rúmil to enter while Legolas turned away in dismay, still unmistakably flushed and disheveled with frustrated need.

\-----------------------  
atto - affectionate form of "father" [Quenya]  
ada - affectionate form of "father" [Sindarin]  
roch neth - colt  
Legolas vain nín - my beautiful Legolas  
Legolas nín - my Legolas  
\-----------------------

 

**56**

Legolas did not even hear what words of greeting Glorfindel and Rúmil exchanged, as he was too distracted by the need to stay silent even though the clamps were still tightly squeezing those most sensitive nodes of nerves. His breathing sounded far too fast and loud in his own ears, his heart seemed to thunder in his chest, and although a covert glance down showed him that his tunic hid the evidence of his need, he felt as if his entire body was thrumming with arousal, and that certainly it had to be all too obvious to Rúmil.

“Legolas, go and pour our guest some mead,” Glorfindel said, and although his voice was mild, Legolas wanted to groan at the perfect malice of it. He could not simply decline – he was certain that even the presence of a visitor like Rúmil, who did not know or approve of their games, would not be enough to keep Glorfindel from disciplining him for such outrageous disobedience.

And then, he did not _want_ to disobey! The very notion of displeasing his Lord filled him with dread, and to do so willfully... No, he could never do that; he truly wanted only to please, no matter the consequences.

He swallowed when he got up, desperately trying to keep straight, all movements slow and graceful so that he would not jar the bells, but it was impossible. Once again his face heated at the tell–tale sound of his golden decorations, and even though the tinkling was muffled by his tunic, he could not help but think that Rúmil must certainly have heard it, and know what caused it, too.

His fingers shook a little as he poured the mead into a goblet, and he walked very slowly, holding himself straight even though his eyes were lowered as he offered it to Rúmil. “Thank you, your Highness,” the guard said, and then there was a small, awkward pause while Legolas' heart beat ever faster with fear and excitement at the thought of Rúmil discovering what Glorfindel had done.

“What brings you to our _talan_, Rúmil?” Glorfindel inquired. “I hope it is not another of your brother's escapades?”

Rúmil looked uncomfortable. “You could say so... At least, it was his doing that caused this.” He sighed, looking from Glorfindel to Legolas, and frowned as if he did not approve of what he saw.

Legolas flushed with shame at this reaction – to be found wanting yet again was a feeling he knew all too well, and he hated how much he was still affected by it.

Legolas knew how it had to look... He, clad in his simple clothes of linen, his hair open and unadorned like that of a child, or someone without rank and rights, ordered around like a lowly servant and following every command as if he were afraid of his master's wrath. And then Glorfindel clad in his tunic of fine velvet, wearing rings and hair clips wrought of gold, well aware of his standing and his power...

It was this inequality between them that Rúmil was seeing, and his narrowed eyes showed only too clearly that he did not approve. It made Legolas feel ashamed, even though he did not think that what he did was shameful. He obeyed and served because that was what he liked – he did it for love of Glorfindel, and not from cowardice or fear.

“I already told Legolas a day ago, after my brother had challenged him to that so-called duel,” Rúmil began, then took a sip of the mead. “Many did not approve of what Haldir did, especially when they heard the Prince's true age. And more so – during that duel, many saw Legolas' back. I am afraid that it was quite obvious how he had been abused...”

“Abused?” Glorfindel asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

Rúmil looked uneasy, but nevertheless continued, even in the face of Glorfindel's anger. “Ai, I do not claim to understand these things – it has never appealed to me! Legolas has assured me that he has consented to everything that passes between you, yet even so it will still be eight years before he can be considered an adult. It does not sit well with everyone, and I am certain that you must be able to see why that is so. A few of the guards have sought an audience with our Lord Celeborn... I thought you should know that, at least.”

“My Lord does not abuse me!” Legolas exclaimed with a vehement anger that surprised even himself. “Ai, how dare they meddle with my affairs? Two years ago they should have intervened, when I knew nothing but abuse and humiliation day after day! No one helped me then – and now they dare to call my Lord abuser, when I know nothing but love and kindness from him?”

Rúmil looked abashed. “Forgive me, Highness. Yet none of us were in Imladris two years ago... I hope that at least one of us would have helped you, had we been there.”

“Ah, but you are wrong,” Legolas said bitterly. “Your own brother was there – did he tell you what he did to my brother and me? Did you laugh about it? Back then, I was already so heavy with child that a simple stair left me out of breath and exhausted, yet that did not deter your brother from _abusing_ me. No – it is easy to pretend outrage now, when what I have at last is good, and precious to me.”

“I am not my brother...” Rúmil began softly, yet stopped at Legolas' stricken expression.

“Your own Lord,” Legolas said in a low voice, “who calls me kin now, who is as good and kind as any friend I could wish for, who you told me yourself would grant me asylum should I seek it! – your Lord Celeborn himself laughed when he saw me flaunted as a prisoner, a slave in Imladris... as Glorfindel's whore.” The word brought tears to his eyes, yet still he continued. “He did not call me kin _then_... he did not offer me help. He laughed to see me sentenced to punishment by my Lord's belt, for daring to protest his insults...”

“Beloved,” Glorfindel said softly, ignoring Rúmil as he very gently pulled Legolas into his arms, wiping a tear from the youth's cheek. “Do not fear... No matter what happens, you shall never lose my love. I am yours, as is all my heart. And if in the end, we are not welcome in Lórien, then we shall return to Imladris. And if we cannot find happiness there – why, then I shall take you and Gîl over the sea, to build another life there for ourselves. You shall always have my love, Legolas... always.”

Legolas sighed, finally relaxing against the strong body of his Lord. “I know,” he said simply. “I would never doubt you, my Lord, _never_!” Then he turned his head to look at Rúmil again.

“What you call abuse, I call trust. You cannot understand, for you have never needed it, but there are times when I need that which only my Lord can give me. You do not know what it feels like when doubts and fears smother you like a heavy blanket, when your every thought is full of despair and shame – when you truly and deeply loathe every part of yourself. There, I have said it... that greatest horror of all. There were times when I wished I could leave this world behind, to escape to the cold, dreamless sleep of Mandos' Halls. And before you seek to blame that on my Lord as well – there were times I longed for it even before I met him for the first time.

“What my Lord gives me takes away all these terrible thoughts. It is a precious thing I give him – my body, my heart, my trust! – and he treats it as a great gift. Ai, he can hurt me, humiliate me, and yet always, _always_, there is love shining from his eyes! I shall not let you declare me a victim, or a child for allowing this. Even if I had led a different life, I would still need this! Look at your brother – look at Ellonúr! No one would call _him_ a victim. He is neither weak, nor a child... he is a warrior, and well–liked and respected, yet still he plays these games with your brother. Nay – you cannot save me, Rúmil, for I do not need to be saved, and I shall not allow your friends to destroy the happiness that I have found.”

"I am sorry," Rúmil said with a deep sigh. "Maybe I should not have come... Truly, I am sorry if I hurt you, Highness, that was not my intention. I would not seek to part you from Lord Glorfindel or your son. And the other guards... they understand these things no more than I do. What they saw were bruises and welts on the back of one who is still several years too young for such games in their eyes... They know of your lord's reputation, and I swear that it is not from malice but from true worry for you that they seek for our Lord's intervention."

"They are too late then," Legolas said bitterly. "Very well, let them go to your Lord. Considering that he is well acquainted with just how my skin bruises, and even complimented me on the prettiness of it, I do not think that he will be swayed to meddle with my private affairs at the words of a few guards."

Rúmil had flushed at Legolas' words and now refused to meet their eyes, quite obviously uncomfortable at having to hear such intimate talk about his Lord.

"I shall leave it to you and my Lord, then, to deal with this... Forgive me for disturbing you," he said, still visibly unsettled by what he had heard. "I truly hope that you will not think badly of us. Many of us still think you very courageous for your duel with Haldir! None of us would wish to cause you hurt..."

Legolas did not answer, but Glorfindel sighed and gave Rúmil a thoughtful look. "I do not blame you, nor your fellow guards, for thinking Legolas mistreated... Indeed, it would be sad should signs of abuse be passed over in the Golden Wood. Yet things are not always as they seem... Your fellow guards might have sought a conversation with Legolas or myself first."

Legolas groaned at that and buried his face against Glorfindel's chest. "Valar, I am glad they did not – I would have died of shame!" he said with a heartfelt groan. "It is bad enough that everyone already knows so much... Celeborn at least will be able to understand, and tell them so, too."

"I hope so," Rúmil said softly, abashed at their reaction to the news he had brought. "I will take my leave then – forgive me for disturbing your evening." He bowed, still looking distinctly unsettled, and then finally left their _talan_.

Only when the door was at last closed behind him did Legolas allow himself to sigh. "Ai, why must this happen now?" he complained tiredly. "It was such a good day too... with the exception of what happened at the market, maybe, but still..."

Glorfindel frowned. "I think you still have not told me all about this morning; but that can wait. As you said, we – or at least _I_ – were having a very good time before he showed up... and I hope you know me well enough to realize that I will not allow a simple guard to keep me from _abusing_ you." Glorfindel smirked, and Legolas moaned softly when his knees grew weak, just as if nothing had happened. Oh, his body knew its master well – and that was just how he wanted it.

He swallowed, looking up to give Glorfindel a look of pure need from eyes that had grown dark with desire once more.

"My Lord," he breathed, then gasped when Glorfindel reached out and slowly began to open button after button of his tunic. He felt light–headed with desire, trembling a little as more and more of his chest was bared to Glorfindel's possessive hands, and when at last his Lord's fingers encountered his tormented nipples, he cried out softly, his eyes fluttering closed. It felt a little like fainting, like climax, and even though it hurt he only wanted more.

"Please!" he gasped, tears gleaming in his eyes once more, and when Glorfindel playfully tugged at the chains he gasped at the pain, achingly hard now and desiring only to feel Glorfindel sheathe his hard length in his body.

"What are you begging for, _roch neth_?" Glorfindel asked with another wicked smile. "Do you want mercy? You will not have that from me... I will hear you whimper and cry even more tonight, before I take them off. And it will not happen before I have found release."

Legolas gasped when Glorfindel let go of the chains, the bells tinkling once again, and then fell to his knees, blindly pressing his face to his Lord's groin to hungrily seek out the shape of his arousal. He breathed in deeply, moaning almost as if in despair at the wave of lust and need that overcame him at the aroma of musk, and mouthed at the large bulge, desperate for the smallest hint of taste.

Glorfindel groaned and grabbed a handful of Legolas' hair as if to pull him back, so that the youth whimpered in despair and renewed his efforts, licking and nuzzling at the hard shape he could feel through the fabric.

"Please, my Lord!" he begged fervently. "Please, let me! Let me serve you! I need to feel you!"

Glorfindel chuckled. "Need it that badly, do you?" he asked in a dark purr, and Legolas moaned at his words.

"Yes," he breathlessly agreed. "I do... I need you so much! I need you inside me! Make me serve you, my Lord... use my body for your pleasure!"

Glorfindel laughed softly. "Do you want this?" he murmured, using his grip on Legolas' hair to press his face against his length. "Say it... tell me what you need, _roch neth_."

Legolas swallowed, so light–headed with need that he thought he could come here and now without a single touch, if that was what his Lord commanded.

"I need your cock," he moaned recklessly, too aroused now to even blush at what he was saying. "I need it inside me... I need you to use me, my Lord, hard and fast. Make me hurt for you, Lord... make me cry for your pleasure!"

"Ah, _roch neth_..." Glorfindel groaned. "Valar... if you cry, it will be your own fault. You had better be able to take what I will give you, because there truly will be no mercy for you! Get up, and get rid of those leggings, or I swear I will rip them off and send you out to buy new ones yet again!"

Legolas whimpered as he obeyed and quickly pushed down his leggings, his own aching shaft springing free. Then Glorfindel's hand was in his hair again, grabbing a hank of silken locks so that tears welled up in his eyes as he was pulled to Glorfindel's desk by it, but despite the pain he spread his legs in ready obedience as Glorfindel roughly bent him over it.

"Ready for me?" Glorfindel breathed, hurriedly opening the ties of his leggings, then cursed when he tested Legolas with a finger to find him unprepared.

"I do not care! Please, my Lord, take me... it is my own fault for not taking better care!"

Legolas almost sobbed when he found himself suddenly denied the warmth of his Lord's powerful body, but it took only a moment until Glorfindel returned with a phial triumphantly clutched in his hand.

"It would not do to have you scream _too_ loudly, _roch neth_," Glorfindel breathed maliciously. "For even with this, I will use you so hard, so deep, that you _will_ scream for me..."

Legolas moaned with desire, yet when Glorfindel pulled the stopper from the phial, a delicate fragrance filled the air – a scent he recognized.

"Ai, stop, my Lord!" he breathed. "That is too precious... it is the mallorn blossom oil!"

Glorfindel leaned forward, so that he could feel him smile against his neck while a slick finger probed at his opening. "Not as precious as you," he murmured, then moved back again and added a second finger, giving Legolas no more than a few quick thrusts before he deemed it enough.

 

**57**

With one hard thrust, Glorfindel sheathed himself inside the yielding body of the youth, groaning with lust even while Legolas cried out at being used so roughly. Tears ran down his face, and every move of Glorfindel inside him was accompanied by the tinkling of the bells – yet he was almost unbearably hard himself, and the pain of being put to such hard usage, the ache from his tortured nipples, only fanned his need to new heights, so that he spread his legs even further, offering himself up to his Lord's cruel lusts. He panted, crying out softly every time one of Glorfindel's thrusts hit the small spot inside him that made him press back against his Lord in a breathless demand for more – yet his Lord's movements were not designed to give him pleasure this time. The thrusts were angled in such a way that each hot burst of ecstasy was mere accident, and the knowledge that his body was used to give pleasure to his Lord alone excited him, so that he moaned at each hard thrust, loving the burning friction of the huge shaft moving inside him.

"Yes, take it," Glorfindel groaned. "It is what you begged for... My cock is all you will get today. Be grateful for it..."

"I am!" Legolas moaned, only wanting more of it, more of the ache, more of his Lord's terrible, exciting words. The bells swung on their chains beneath his chest, jingling merrily so that the pain of the tight clamps was ever-present, and he whimpered, squirming a little even though Glorfindel's strong body held him tightly pinned to the desk. He had held himself up by his elbows, so that his tortured nipples would not be pressed against the desk, but now he arched up as much as was possible, reaching blindly back to tug on his Lord's hands.

"Please..." he breathed, "oh please, touch me..."

He pulled them to his chest, whimpering in fearful expectation of the pain that he knew would come but still pressed himself demandingly forward, so that his Lord's fingers brushed against his aching nipples. As anticipated, there was pain that made him cry out, yet it was exactly what he had needed, and he sobbed gratefully when Glorfindel gave him another hard thrust while simultaneously rubbing over his nipples with no regard for the pain he was causing.

"Please..." Legolas whimpered again, not quite certain what it was he wanted, and Glorfindel chuckled to hear him so needy.

"Oh, I know what you need, _roch neth_," he threatened, and then his fingers tightened the clamps even more so that Legolas moaned with excited pain, new tears running down his cheeks at the exquisite ache, knowing all of his body fully owned by his Lord.

Glorfindel once again fisted a handful of his hair and used it to ruthlessly press him down onto the desk, chuckling with dark amusement when Legolas sobbed at the way his aching, squeezed nipples scraped across the hard surface.

"Stop whimpering and take what I have to give you," he growled. "It is what you wanted!" He slapped Legolas' thigh once, with enough force to leave behind a red imprint, and the youth moaned breathlessly and indeed stopped moving, resting his head on the desk in humiliation as his Lord continued to use and abuse his yielding body in whichever way he desired.

Glorfindel used him just as roughly as before, if not even more so, so that Legolas softly sobbed at each hard thrust that filled him to bursting. Yet his tears only served to provide his Lord amusement, and every now and then, his efforts got him another slap that made him moan and instinctively tighten around the hard shaft deep inside him.

Finally Glorfindel groaned and bent low over Legolas, muffling his shout of release in his hair while his fingers gripped the youth's hips so tightly that Legolas gasped in pain.

"Mmh... good, _roch neth_," Glorfindel sighed at last, ungently rubbing the reddened thighs that were trembling now with the youth's frustrated need. "You always feel so good!"

He moaned again as he withdrew, groaning with lust when he watched the small muscle stretching so tightly around him, providing almost unbearable friction. "Ahh, Haldir is right, I truly am a vain man, but I love this sight!"

Legolas had whimpered softly at feeling his Lord withdraw, but he was too far gone with need to even think of protesting. "You have every right to be vain..." he breathed, his voice hoarse from crying and frustrated desire. "I told Haldir so, too..."

Glorfindel chuckled at that and patted his bottom. "I see you have at last learned to flatter me," he said with a smirk. "It is to no avail, though... I will make you suffer some more for me tonight.” He once again grabbed a handful of hair and pulled the youth over to the settee by it, laughing a little at his despair. “Poor Legolas... You want to come, do you not? But before I let you, I will take off one of the clamps...”

“Thank you, my Lord,” Legolas breathed in relief, giving Glorfindel a look of worship despite the rough way he was being handled. Glorfindel smirked again at the way the youth clung to him when he pulled him onto his lap – just as he liked him best, sweet and yielding and needy, despite the pain and the unfulfilled desire.

“Ah, _roch neth_, I think I forgot to tell you that taking them off is going to hurt much more than putting them on,” he whispered into Legolas' ear, pressing the pad of his thumb against the sensitive tip of a nipple so that Legolas whimpered once more but helplessly leaned into the touch, ready to take anything his Lord gave him, whether it was pleasure or pain.

Then, finally, Glorfindel loosened the clamp and took it off, his other arm firmly wrapped about the youth's waist to hold him close, and as soon as the blood was finally allowed to return to the abused flesh, Legolas cried out once more, his fingers clenching around Glorfindel's arms.

“Yes... cry for me!” Glorfindel said hungrily and feasted on the youth's mouth, bruising his lips with the force of his kiss while his fingers tugged and rolled the small, abused nub of sensitive flesh without mercy, swallowing the youth's sobs with cruel delight. And when he finally broke the kiss, it was only to ruthlessly push Legolas down onto his back, closing his lips around the nipple to suck and tug on it while he wrapped his fingers around the prince's desperately hard length, demandingly milking his orgasm from him while he listened to his broken sobs.

“Well? Did you like that?” he asked at the end, when he finally released the swollen nub. Legolas' sobs had quieted to little whimpers and his shaft was soft and sensitive, although Glorfindel was still stroking him slowly, enjoying how the youth quivered and gasped at the overstimulation. “_I_ did... You look so lovely like this!” He moaned in appreciation as he looked down at the youth spread out before him like a feast, disheveled, hair mussed, and glistening with sweat. “You look truly well used now, _roch neth_... You feel well used, too!”

He groaned with sudden lust as he effortlessly penetrated the youth with two fingers, the trembling body relaxed now and slick inside with his own seed, so that he added a third finger and groaned again when he watched the small muscle stretch around him.

“Valar!” he breathed, his blood rushing through his veins with sudden excitement. “If I used my whole hand, you would just take it, would you not?”

Legolas made a soft sound, shuddering around him, and gave him a look of such submissive devotion that Glorfindel swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry as he imagined taking possession of the youth's body in such a way. How Legolas would react to him, the sheer depth of surrender he could demand which the youth would as always trustingly yield to him...

“One day I will do it,” he said, the words promise and threat at the same time, his fingers still moving inside the heat of the youth's body solely for the pleasure of hearing his breathless little gasps. “One day soon, when we will not have to worry about Gîl... I will demand that surrender of you, and you will give it to me, unquestioningly, unhesitatingly, even though you are afraid. Image it, _roch neth_... At that moment, you will truly know that you belong to me completely."

They both moaned, and Glorfindel knew at once that if he asked it of him now, Legolas would let him do it, would surrender and trust himself to his Lord, as he always did...

"But not today," he said more gently. "There is Gîl, and while he is not yet big enough to reach up to the door handle on his own, I still think that kind of game had best be reserved for an evening we have all to ourselves. Also, you have been through enough for today. You will be quite sore tomorrow as it is... You had my cock two times today, and the flogger as well, you insatiable little thing! You are going to wear me out very soon, and I shall return to Imladris exhausted and weary, but a shadow of my former self!"

Spent, sated and still in pain from the remaining clamp, Legolas nevertheless giggled softly at the teasing words, then sighed in regret when his Lord's fingers finally slipped out of him.

With half-lidded eyes, he watched as Glorfindel wiped his fingers onto his belly, feeling strangely aroused by the sight and sensation of his skin smeared with glistening streaks of their mingled seed. He groaned and stretched a little, his chest pressed forward like an offer so that Glorfindel chuckled and playfully tugged on the remaining bell. The tinkling was accompanied by one of Legolas' whimpers, and when Glorfindel let go of the chain to instead encircle the ripe, red nipple with a fingertip, the youth shuddered and gasped.

"Do you want me to take off the clamp?" Glorfindel asked wickedly. "Beg me for it, and I will do it."

Legolas moaned and gave him a pleading look, shivering under Glorfindel's hands as he thought about how it would hurt.

"Please," he whispered, "please take it off, my Lord."

He trembled, his eyes following Glorfindel's fingers as they settled on the gleaming metal that so cruelly encased the aching little nub, yet even so he arched towards his Lord's hand, wanting to please far more than he feared the pain.

"So eager, _roch neth_?" Glorfindel murmured and smiled at the way his voice made the youth tremble once more. "One last time I will make you shed those pretty tears for me... But I promise I will kiss it better again."

Legolas moaned a little at what they both knew to be a threat, yet when Glorfindel's fingers finally began to open the clamp, he closed his eyes and turned his head to the side, surrendering himself to whatever his Lord desired to do to him.

It was just one short moment of reprieve, and then, quick as a flash of lightning in the sky, pain hit and made him gasp once more, tears spilling down his face as hot blood rushed back into the tormented flesh. He whimpered, pressing his chest helplessly against his Lord's fingers, and when finally lips closed around the abused nub once more he groaned in terrible relief at the hard, demanding suction.

He did not know how long his Lord's mouth tortured him in such a way – all sense of time had gone as he writhed and whimpered beneath Glorfindel, knowing nothing but pain and need, and a strange, looming breathlessness almost like fainting.

He had not truly lost consciousness, but it was much like regaining his senses when the strange feeling finally left him. He found himself resting in his Lord's arms, soothed by strong, warm hands that ran possessively over his body.

He sighed deeply and turned his head to rest his cheek against Glorfindel's chest, listening to his Lord's heartbeat. There were no words adequate to express what he was feeling, yet words were not needed between them now, for Glorfindel's eyes shone with an amused tenderness and Legolas knew himself safe, and loved.

"Shall I have to carry you back to bed now, sweet one?" Glorfindel murmured, and Legolas sighed languidly, moving an arm around his Lord's neck to be able to snuggle closer against him.

Glorfindel laughed softly. "Exhausted at last, hmm? And a good thing it is too... I am too tired to entertain you again this night."

"You did not let me taste you," Legolas sighed in complaint, his eyes still hazy with the remnants of the strange tranquility he had found.

"And you so wanted to, _roch neth_," Glorfindel teased, making Legolas sigh again with languorous longing.

"I did... I do," he moaned and closed his eyes, deeply breathing his Lord's scent of sweat and their drying seed – finding lust and love and safety in those arms all at once, as always.

"Then I am certain you will get a chance to do so tomorrow," Glorfindel said tenderly, cradling the youth's body in his arms as he stood. "But for now our bed, I think... and maybe a washcloth before, lest we be stuck to each other when we wake."

Legolas murmured a sleepy assent, contentedly burying his head in the crook of Glorfindel's neck as he was carried over to their bed. Once Glorfindel had wiped them both down, Legolas came readily into his Lord's arms.

"You have to do that again," he mumbled, his eyes growing unfocused as reverie crept up on him. "I like it when you pretend to be so evil and rough with me..."

Glorfindel laughed at that, although the look he gave Legolas was one of love and tenderness, and when he saw that the youth had already fallen into a deep sleep, he kissed his brow, sighing himself as he thought about what joy he would know, always, from now until the end of all things.

 

**58**

Legolas woke when the door that connected their bedchamber to Gîl's small room was pushed open. He sighed softly and tried to sit up, but Glorfindel – possessive even in reverie – tightened his arm around him with a growl. Legolas smiled and leaned down to press a kiss to his brow, then gently extricated himself of his Lord's arms which as always were reluctant to let go of him.

"_Ada_! It is my begetting day!" Gîl said excitedly, even though it was still so dark outside that Legolas could just barely see his outline next to their bed.

"It is still night, Gîl," Legolas explained gently. "It will only be your begetting day once Anor is up in the sky."

Gîlríon's face fell in disappointment.

"Come here, my heart," Legolas murmured and pulled him up onto the bed. "Sleep only a little while longer, and it will be your begetting day when you wake up."

Gîlríon sighed, still visibly disappointed, but when Legolas pushed the covers back and lifted Gîl to lie between them, the child cuddled readily against his chest, quickly becoming sleepy in the warmth trapped between their naked bodies. Legolas curled around him, his cheek resting against the riot of golden curls, and Glorfindel wrapped a protective arm around them both with a sleepy sound of approval.

The small body in his arms was warm, Gîl's linen shift damp against his skin, and Legolas breathed in deeply, consciously enjoying the hard-won feeling of safety, trust and love that enveloped him before he slipped into reverie once more.

When he woke again some time later, he found himself all alone in their bed, although by the sounds from the sitting room, Glorfindel and Gîl could not have been awake for long either. There was the sound of tea being poured and plates rattling, and Legolas heard the voice of one of the Lórien elves that usually brought them breakfast, wishing Gîl a joyful begetting day.

Legolas got up quickly, loath to miss even a moment of this first celebration of their son's conception, but as soon as he had put on a simple robe, Gîl came racing into their bedroom. "Wake up, _ada_!" he shouted happily, then stopped when he found Legolas already risen. "_Ada_, it is my begetting day!"

Legolas laughed and picked Gîl up to kiss him. "Indeed it is, my heart... And see how brightly Anor shines today!"

"Come, _ada_! There is breakfast! And _atto_ says I will get presents when you have eaten!"

Gîlríon squirmed so that Legolas had to put him down again. He followed the exuberant child into the sitting room where indeed Glorfindel was already waiting for him. There were cups of steaming mint tea as well as slices of fragrant, freshly baked bread, butter and smoked meats and fish, and for Gîl, as always, a bowl of oatmeal. The Elf who had brought their breakfast had already left, and so Legolas greeted his Lord with a kiss before he sat down and breathed in the hot steam of his tea with a happy sigh. Gîl insisted on sitting on his _atto_'s lap and there proceeded to spoon the oatmeal into his mouth with far more speed than usual.

"Are you excited, Gîl?" Glorfindel teased, chuckling when the child nodded vigorously, some of the oatmeal dropping from his spoon onto the table.

"It is my begetting day, _atto_! You said I will get a present!"

"And so you will, as soon as we are finished with breakfast," Glorfindel said and pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, steadying the dripping spoon with a hand. "I promise that it is going to be a wonderful day, Gîl. Later on, luncheon will be waiting for us outside, and Arwen, Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn will be there, as well as Fairion and Laindir and the other guards we came with. Then you can spend the entire day playing with your presents. How does that sound?"

Legolas smiled at Gîlríon's delight, noting how most of another spoonful of oatmeal ended up smeared across cheek and shift, instead of in the child's mouth.

"Shall I go and help him clean up?" he offered once the bowl was finally mostly empty, but Glorfindel shook his head.

"No, I will do it, you can get his presents in the meantime. Come on, Gîl, let us get you clean again!"

"I _am_ clean," Gîl mumbled, staring longingly after his _ada_ when he left the room, but when Legolas finally returned after several moments with most of what they had gotten for their child gathered in his arms, Gîl sat on Glorfindel's lap once more, dressed in clean tunic and leggings.

"A horse, _ada_?" Gîlríon exclaimed in delight, immediately spying the most important present right on top of the heap of gifts in Legolas' arms.

"A brown one... It can play with your Asfaloth," Legolas said, and quickly Gîl slipped from Glorfindel's lap to run to his own room, excitedly waving the white toy horse as he returned.

"Look, that is Lainiell," he explained gravely and held the horse up so that it could look at the toy in Legolas' hands.

Legolas laughed and leaned down to press a kiss to Gîl's cheek, then put the new toy into his hands and embraced him tightly. "I love you, Gîl! Happy begetting day!"

How strange that he had once wondered whether he would be able to love Gîl the way a child should be loved, for once he had held him in his arms, loving him and expressing it came as naturally as breathing to him – indeed it would have been much harder to try and suppress his emotions!

"I love you too, _ada_!" Gîl said happily, then ran back to Glorfindel to show him his new toy as well.

"There is more, Gîl," Legolas said, laughing when immediately Gîlríon slipped from Glorfindel's lap to come racing back towards him. He pulled him up to sit on his lap, kissing him once more, and then showed their son the wooden warriors with their horses which he had arrayed on the table.

Gîl's eyes widened with delight, and Legolas smiled at Glorfindel when Gîl's small fist closed unerringly around the golden-haired captain. "Look! That is _atto_!" he exclaimed, half-climbing onto the table in his exuberance.

His joy was so infectious that Glorfindel and Legolas soon found themselves sitting on the floor, spending most of the morning playing with Gîlríon and his new toys. It was the grumbling of their stomachs that finally reminded them that it was time for the midday meal and thus, high time for them to join their guests in the clearing that had been prepared for their celebration.

Legolas had to pack Gîl's wooden soldiers into a box so they could take them along, while the child proudly carried his two horses, loath to part with his new toys even for the duration of the celebration. They had all donned fine clothes, yet instead of the more formal robes, they wore leggings and tunics of embroidered silks due to the nature of the gathering, while Gîlríon wore a fine linen ensemble he could play in without doing too much damage.

"Will Rúmil be there as well?" Legolas asked when they had almost reached their destination, a light frown on his face as he considered meeting Haldir's brother once more. Glorfindel had not told him much about the meeting he had had with Celeborn, only that the Lord had calmed his guards and reassured them that no harm was done to the prince. Yet still, the situation continued to be terribly embarrassing to Legolas. While he could live with Celeborn's intimate knowledge and teasing, it was quite a different thing to have strangers be aware of such private matters.

"I... should not have said those things, not to Rúmil; he truly did not deserve to be blamed for the actions of his brother. He was the only one to help me, and yet I told him those terrible things..."

He looked to the ground, ashamed at what he had revealed to Rúmil during their conversation only few days ago. And what if the guard had told his brother? It was bad enough to have to meet Rúmil again after what had happened, but even though Haldir had more or less stopped tormenting him at every opportunity, imagining the Marchwarden in possession of such intimate knowledge about his life made him flush with shame and dread.

"He most probably will be," Glorfindel said softly and wrapped an arm around Legolas in reassurance. "Do not think about it too much – I doubt that he will hold it against you. He is an honorable man who would never use his knowledge to hurt you, and I think that he is well aware of the emotions that pushed you to such a confession."

"I know that he meant well, and I am grateful for that, too... But if I were to lose you and Gîl..."

Legolas fell silent, unable to utter such a sentiment on Gîl's begetting day, but Glorfindel understood nevertheless, as always.

"You will not, not ever. I promise," he said gently, tightening his fingers around Legolas' hand, then raised it to his mouth for another kiss that made Legolas smile despite his worries and earned them a smile from Galadriel as just in that moment, they stepped out from among the trees into the glade.

"Are you hungry, little star?" Glorfindel asked and swung him up into his arms, so the child could see the large blanket laden with all sorts of different food. "Let us greet our guests, and then afterwards, we will eat."

Together they approached Celeborn and Galadriel, and Gîlríon bowed as he had been taught, even though immediately afterwards he showed them his two toy horses, demanding due praise for them.

The rulers of Lothlórien readily indulged him and then produced a gift as well – a festive robe made of a velvet dyed the blue of the evening sky, and a fine silk brocade that had been embroidered with thousands of tiny gems and pearls. The garment gleamed like the night firmament, covered by a multitude of stars, and Legolas stared at it in awe.

Glorfindel had given them fine clothes, and they had come to Lórien dressed like nobility, but this – this was different. This was a garment fit for a king, a royal robe showing all the splendor a realm's coffers had to offer, donned only for the most important ceremonies.

Gîlríon thanked them politely, but it was only too obvious that in his eyes this was a gift that was far beneath his toy horse, and when he took the robe from Celeborn, Legolas rushed forward to save it from his careless fingers.

"Thank you," Legolas breathed, looking in awe at the splendor in his hands.

"Yes, thank you for this gift." Glorfindel's voice was thoughtful and earnest, as if moved by profound sentiment, and when he turned to Legolas, the youth thought that he understood.

"Lord Celeborn is revered as a giver of gifts beyond the power of kings," Glorfindel explained softly. "Maybe he foresees an occasion for our little star to wear such a glorious garment in the future?"

Celeborn smiled at them, but did not say anything to dispel the mystery. Still, Legolas was certain that he knew of his reasons – there was only one occasion where he could imagine Gîlríon wearing such splendor, and that would certainly never come to pass. To return to his father's court in all honor, to be acknowledged his father's son, a prince of the realm once more...

It hurt to think that Glorfindel might imagine such an event possible in the near future, for Legolas knew that only failure and disappointment awaited him in such an endeavor, but he forced himself to smile and show nothing of his fears.

"Truly, I have never seen anything so glorious!"

Celeborn smiled at his astonished awe and then produced another gift – a circlet of gold, small enough to fit onto Gîl's head, and once again Legolas was overwhelmed by emotion when he held it in his hands and saw that it was decorated with small flowers of gold as well as tiny leaves cut from emeralds.

Legolas could not think of what to say, his fingers trembling as he reverently held the circlet. To see himself and his own ancestry acknowledged so, proclaimed as equal to Glorfindel's lineage to the eyes of everyone present... It was a miracle, and not something he had ever hoped to see.

He was grateful that this time, Glorfindel took it onto himself to thank the Lord and Lady for their beautiful gift, for he truly did not think that he was capable of speech at that moment.

Arwen was the next to greet them, and once she had sufficiently praised Gîl's new toys, she had a gift for him as well – a cloak of a dark blue velvet, woven of such fine threads that it gleamed like silver in the light. The trim had been embroidered with thousands of tiny gems by the Lady and her maidens, and Legolas felt humbled when he realized how many hours this must have taken.

"How fine he will look in all his new garments!" Arwen said in delight. "We all hope that there will soon be an appropriate occasion for him to wear them."

Once again Legolas felt confusion rise up in him, and the sad certainty that it must indeed be their plan to reinstate him as prince. It would not happen – he knew his father too well for that, and in truth, even if they could find a way to make the King consider it, it was not an honor he wanted. He had finally found happiness away from his family, and he would not exchange that happiness for anything, least of all for his father's doubtful acknowledgments.

"Highness," a familiar voice drawled, and Legolas had to suppress the urge to take a step back when Haldir bowed to him.

"We have a gift as well for Gîlríon, although to truly appreciate it, I think he will need your help," Rúmil said, giving Legolas a hesitant look as if he feared what his reception would be.

"Rúmil was the scribe, and I illustrated it, but it was Haldir who told us the tales again – as he is the eldest, that used to be his duty when we were young. My name is Orophin, Highness, and I am the brother of Haldir and Rúmil." The elf standing next to the two brothers bowed and then handed Legolas a leather-bound tome.

"Well met, Orophin," Legolas said, feeling rather overwhelmed by the brothers and their gift, even though he was relieved to notice that Orophin showed none of Haldir's overwhelming arrogance. "Oh!" he exclaimed in genuine surprise when he opened the book and saw the name of the first tale. "The Hare and the Hedgehog! And the tale of Melian and the Butterfly!"

Orophin laughed. "It seems that Haldir still remembers the right tales, then! We wagered that even in Thranduil's forest, they would still tell the old Silvan tales, like that of the Hare and the Hedgehog. And as our father's mother was half Sindarin herself, we hoped that there would be at least a few tales in here that you would remember from your own childhood."

"I do! This is a wonderful gift!" Legolas exclaimed, all earlier shyness forgotten as he gave them a bright smile. "I am certain Gîl will love it! Thank you so much!"

"It is truly a very thoughtful gift," Glorfindel said warmly, looking at Haldir as if it was something he had not expected of him. "Thank you, all of you!"

There were yet more gifts for Gîl, and once they had admired them and thanked the other guests, they sat down on the blanket the Lord and Lady shared with them and Arwen. There was food enough for a company of twice their size – fragrant bread made from rye and wheat, pike, catfish and trout caught in the Celebrant just that morning, potatoes baked in the embers of a fire, slabs of cheese, and an assortment of venison and duck pastries. For Gîl, there was a light pear cider and clear, cool spring water, and pitchers of a strong, red Lórien vintage for his guests.

After their meal, Gîl grew drowsy so they let him nap while first the Lady Arwen and then her maidens entertained them with gentle songs accompanied by the harp, and when the child woke again, Orophin played them a lively tune on the flute.

They whiled away the afternoon with games, and with Glorfindel's loving attention and Gîlríon's joyful laughter, Legolas was certain that he had never been so happy before. He half feared that his brother would use the occasion for an untimely interruption, but this time, no one disturbed them – and there was not even a single mocking whisper when Glorfindel would press kisses to his fingers or his hair every now and then.

Glorfindel was indeed nothing but kindness and loving attention that afternoon, until Legolas began to fear that with all that tenderness focused on him, he would truly start to look like the swooning maiden he had been called so often. But then, in the midst of an exuberant game of tag, Glorfindel grabbed him and pushed him almost violently against the back of a tree. Nothing but a small shrub hid them from the eyes of the party, yet Legolas forgot all about them when his Lord's tongue ruthlessly invaded his mouth so that he moaned in abject surrender, arching up against Glorfindel's body even though his Lord's strong hand kept his wrists tightly pinned against the tree above his head.

It was only one moment, though, then Glorfindel released him, and for a few heartbeats, they stood there together. They were both breathing fast, and Legolas was flushed from pleasure as well as shock, well aware that if Glorfindel had kept on, it would have been hard not to embarrass himself.

After a moment, Glorfindel sighed and pressed a gentle kiss to the youth's brow. “Ah, Legolas,” he said softly, his eyes alight with the tenderest of feelings, “every day you teach me a new way in which to cherish you!”

Legolas felt himself flush with pleasure and leaned forward to kiss Glorfindel again, unable to express his love and adoration in another way, until someone came running towards the tree they had been hiding behind, with the company close behind in laughing pursuit. They left their hiding place at last to join the game once more, and their fingers stayed entwined even while they tried to evade capture for as long as possible.

  
**59**

Legolas moaned softly when Glorfindel at last slipped out of him. His Lord had taken him slowly yet insistently this morning – had indeed taken him while he was still lost in reverie, so that it was the initial pain of penetration that had woken him – but any tears had been long since forgotten, for Glorfindel knew how to play his body and had made use of him so thoroughly that at last, he had not even had any breath left to plead for mercy with.

He stretched languidly, his eyes closing as he cherished the possessive hand that was still clenched around his wrists, the ache of invasion that would stay with him for most of the morning.

"I take it you are awake _now_?" Glorfindel breathed against his neck, then chuckled softly when Legolas shivered at the stimulation. "Does that mean that you are up for more then, _roch neth_? Did I not satisfy you?"

"You always satisfy me, my Lord!" Legolas denied and turned around at last to wrap his arms around Glorfindel's neck, stretching with a sigh of tired fulfillment. "Mmh... You always make me feel so good, no matter what you do to me. I love it when you take control of me so completely!"

Legolas blushed at the intimate confession and Glorfindel chuckled softly, then gripped the youth's chin with one hand to hold him in position for another slow, languid kiss, taking control of the prince's mouth as completely as he had earlier taken control of his body.

"I could keep you here in my bed all day," Glorfindel threatened playfully. "I could indeed make such good use of you that by the time night arrived, you would barely be conscious anymore..."

Legolas moaned, aroused by the picture his Lord's words painted despite the exhaustion left by their vigorous love-making. "No..." he protested weakly. "Please, my Lord... Gîl will want our attention any moment now."

"Very well... I will show mercy. For now," Glorfindel added and laughed again at the way the youth sighed with only barely veiled desire.

"What are your plans for today then, if you are going to so generously refrain from tormenting me?"

Glorfindel chuckled. "Oh, believe me... I will have you thank me for my generosity later today. You can show me just how grateful you truly are then! But for now, I fear that I must leave you the burden of entertaining Gîl for the morning. I shall have to meet with a few of the Golden Wood's councilors to discuss matters of interest to Elrond, but I will be back with you in time for the noon-time meal."

"I could take Gîl to see the horses then," Legolas mused. "That always makes him happy, and I think that both Lainiell and Asfaloth will be glad to leave the stables for a while."

"That will indeed suffice to keep him happy all morning!" Glorfindel laughed. "I shall come to meet you at the stables then, once the councilors let me go. Come, let us wash now while we can still do so in peace."

Legolas sighed but nodded obediently. Gîl would indeed wake soon, and he much desired to wash away all traces of just how thoroughly he had been ravished from his body before then.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Only a short while later, they left the _talan_ together, although their ways soon parted when Glorfindel had to climb a winding, wooden stairway that led to another of the large _mellyrn_ trees that stood at the heart of Caras Galadhon. Meanwhile, Legolas and Gîlríon descended onto the ground to follow a path towards that part of the forest close to the city's wall where barracks and stables had been built.

"I want to ride on my own, _ada_!" Gîlríon argued, and Legolas bit back a sigh. "I am big enough now! It was my begetting day yesterday!"

"It was only your first begetting day, Gîl. You are still too young," Legolas patiently explained, yet as always, that answer failed to satisfy the child.

"I am not!" Gîl denied. "I am much older now!"

Legolas sighed and stopped, kneeling so that he could look at Gîl. "Your _atto_ and I love you very much, Gîl. We just do not want you to get hurt."

"I will not! I am big enough!" Gîl insisted.

"Do you remember what happened to Fairion when his horse got startled by something and tripped over a branch?" Legolas calmly asked, and Gîlríon nodded sagely.

"He fell down and had a bump on his head, and it was this big!" Gîlríon's hands showed the size of a pumpkin. "He let me look!" he added proudly, and Legolas had to bite back his laughter.

"Indeed he did, my heart. And if that were to happen to you, your _atto_ and I would be really, really sad. You do not want to have a bump like Fairion, do you?"

Gîl sighed. "No," he said reluctantly. "But you promised I will get a pony for my next begetting day! I will be really big then!"

"Yes, you will," Legolas said, and Gîlríon beamed at him, so that Legolas wisely refrained from telling him that they would certainly not let him ride his pony without someone leading it by the bridle.

Legolas stood and took Gîl's hand again, and just a short time later they finally reached the large stables, three low, sprawling buildings that had been built to the side of the glade that also housed training grounds and barracks. They had been to the stables before several times to visit the horses, yet never as early as today.

Where they had so far known the Lórien stables only as a quiet place where dust danced in rays of sunshine while the horses munched quietly on some straw, today it was filled with a group of stable boys who seemed in the middle of feeding, cleaning and grooming the horses all at once. There was no place that was not touched by the hectic rush of the morning's work, and Legolas quickly discarded his plan to check on Lainiell first, as they would have had to squeeze past what seemed to be at least five stable boys and a dozen horses first. Instead, he and Gîl turned to walk down the small corridor that lead to the box Asfaloth was stabled in, which was both spacier and sturdier than most of the other boxes.

"There he is... do you want to give him the apple?" Legolas asked Gîl, and at the child's eager nod gave him the wizened apple he had taken from a basket earlier, together with a second one for his mare. Yet when they stepped closer to the box, Legolas saw that it stood open, and that there was a stable lad inside who managed to jump back just in time before the stallion's teeth snapped close at the place where just a moment ago, his outstretched hand had been.

"That bastard!" the boy breathed in awe, and there was laughter from further down the corridor.

"Did you try it again?" someone called. "He will bite your head off someday soon, and that will be less painful than what you will get once Lord Glorfindel finds out!"

"It is not fair," the boy in front of them complained, who still had not noticed that he was no longer alone with the stallion. "Just one quick ride – no one would find out."

Legolas laughed at Asfaloth's threatening snort that made the boy flinch back, then stepped forward, Gîl still holding his hand. He paid no attention to the boy's astonished gasp as he patted the heavily muscled neck, watching instead Gîl's delight as the large head leaned down towards him and Asfaloth gently nipped at the giggling child's hair.

"Are you _insane_?" the boy said in horror. "Take the child away, quick! He will get hurt!"

"I will not!" Gîlríon said indignantly, then giggled again when Asfaloth carefully took the offered apple from his small hand, crunching it between his large teeth so that Gîl's tunic got spattered all over with juice and little bits of pulp. "Yuck!" he said happily while Legolas bit back his laughter.

"He truly will not get hurt," Legolas said and picked up the child to sit him down on the crib for a moment. Then he grabbed a handful of mane and lightly vaulted onto the stallion's back. Gîl eagerly held out his arms and Legolas picked him up again to put him down in front of him, one arm wrapped protectively around his small waist to hold him in place.

He gave the speechless stable boy a timid smile. "I am sorry he threatened you so... I fear that Asfaloth is just as proud and vain as his Lord, if not even more so. I will only take him out for a very short walk."

He nudged Asfaloth's side with a knee, and the stallion obediently stepped out of his box, proudly arching his powerfully muscled neck as he passed the surprised boy in a triumphant half-pass with his knees raised high.

"Asfaloth would never hurt his Lord's heir... Indeed, I wager that he would protect him with his own life even from a pack of wargs," Legolas said in apology.

"Just as he obviously would protect his Lord's beloved prince," a dry voice added, and Legolas once again felt himself flush at Haldir's scrutiny.

"You found us!" he said weakly. "I am sorry we did not wait for you, but we woke early this morning and Gîl was so impatient..."

"Yes, your Lord told me. Although I do wonder at how I am supposed to protect you if you leave without telling me."

"My Lord agreed that no harm could befall us on the way to the stables..."

"Yes, well... Your brother's guards have been confined to their _telain_ and the immediate area surrounding it, so you _should_ be safe from them for now. Still, my Lord Celeborn had me assigned as your personal guard, and whatever you think of me, I do _not_ take my duty lightly."

"Truly, I am very sorry, Haldir," Legolas said. "I did not think of that. I promise I will not forget it again."

Haldir smirked. "See that you do not. For if I have to rescue you again..."

Legolas nodded meekly. "May we ride now, guard, or are there any other dangers you need to protect us from?"

Haldir's eyes narrowed. "Off with you, before _I_ become someone you need protection from."

"I am sorry we startled you!" Legolas called out to the stable boy. "I promise, I am not going to tell anyone!"

"I might tell my Lord though, if I ever find anyone attempting something so foolish again!" Haldir said darkly, and the last thing Legolas saw before they left the stable was the stable lad trying to escape in vain the infamous Marchwarden's tirade.

"Gallop, _ada_!" Gîl demanded excitedly once they were outside. Legolas led Asfaloth to a small square of grass, and there, the lightest change in his seat was enough to have the powerful destrier break into a slow canter as smooth and regular as a rocking horse.

After several rounds, Legolas let Asfaloth slow and then allowed the stallion to walk around the stables and the near-by training ground for a while so they could watch the milling horses out for pasture and the small contingent of Lórien guards that were engaged in a training fight.

"Shall we take Lainiell out now?" Legolas asked at last and at Gîlríon's vigorous nod, led the stallion back towards the stables.

It was calmer when they entered the airy building again. There were no horses out to be groomed, and most of the stable lads had vanished as well. Haldir had waited for them near the stable's entrance where he could keep watch over them and now joined them inside once more, smugly watching how the youth they had surprised earlier was now scrubbing the floor with a scowl on his face.

Legolas jumped from Asfaloth's back with Gîl in his arms, then patted the stallion's neck in thanks. Neck and tail arched high, the stallion slowly walked back to his box and began to snuffle through his crib for a few last grains when Legolas closed and secured his door.

"He seems to listen rather well to you," Haldir said. "I am impressed..."

"Are you?" Legolas laughed. "All it takes is to show him proper respect. He is quite aware that he is a Lord of Horses. No, if you want to be impressed, you should see my Lainiell. If you ever feel like challenging me to another duel, I will insist on it being on horseback. No one in Lórien or Imladris could beat Lainiell and me among the trees!"

Haldir smirked. "That shaggy pony of yours? She does not look particularly fast to me, or particularly war-minded. Horse-breeding in Mirkwood must have changed much indeed during the centuries, for my father told me much of the powerful destriers Oropher and his son rode into battle – 'black like the night and ill-tempered as wargs', were his words."

"Oh, my father breeds them still... But there really is not much they are good for apart from battle on plains. He has to keep them close to the caves, for they could not survive out in the forest, not like our _shaggy ponies_."

Legolas opened the box and rubbed Lainiell's head in greeting. "That thick underwool has saved many a horse from spider bites," he explained. "And of course Mirkwood's winters are cold, for there is no sorcery to protect us from nature's worst. Next to your meek palfreys my Lainiell might not look particularly noble, but if spiders or a pack of wargs were to attack, you would be surprised just how well suited she is to a fight beneath trees. Shall I show you?"

Haldir raised a brow at the smiling youth before him. "So confident?" he drawled. "Why, I am surprised... Who knew you had it in you?"

Legolas froze, his smile faltering, then lowered his eyes to hide the expression of hurt that Haldir's words had caused.

Haldir sighed, his smirk gentling into a smile. "Come, prince, show me your horse's merits... It will not do to have Glorfindel wroth with me yet again, and to tell the truth, I actually do like to see you smile."

Legolas swallowed and then tried to force a more cheerful expression onto his face, although his eyes were still a little wary. "Do you, truly? I thought you liked me best--" He blushed and then stopped when his gaze fell onto Gîl.

Haldir chuckled and stepped closer. "Oh, I do!" he breathed. "As I am certain does your Lord. Still... You are quite sweet when you are happy. I think I am finally starting to understand why your Lord is acting the besotted protector of late."

Legolas' blush deepened, yet the smile had returned to his face, and when Haldir stepped back, he turned to open Lainiell's box wide.

"Come, Gîl, let us show him that Mirkwood's horses are born fighters!"

The mare was still crunching the apple Gîl had given her between her powerful jaws, and when Legolas led her outside, she kept nosing at him in search of more. Yet once Legolas leapt onto her back, a change came over her, and although she did indeed look scruffy from the beginning loss of her winter coat, and though she stood a hand smaller than the sleek Lórien mounts, she was now a picture of collected power and concentration.

Legolas looked around in search, then his eyes lit up when his gaze fell onto a fence in the middle of construction. Wooden poles had been driven into the ground, but no planks had been nailed to them yet.

"If you will watch Gîl for a moment, I shall show you just where the merits of Mirkwood's breed lies," Legolas said confidently. "I wager that there is no horse in Lórien on which you could do this faster than Lainiell and I."

Haldir smiled lazily, openly appraising the youth. "Oh, very well... If you lose, then I get a kiss as forfeit."

Legolas flushed but shook his head in resignation. "Will you not first see what my horse can do? You might decide not to take me up on that wager after all."

"Why, you truly _are_ confident!" Haldir feigned surprise. "Go on then... I am curious now!"

"There is a game in Mirkwood called _pâd e-gelaidh_, the Way of Trees – I do not supppose it is played in Lórien as well?"

Haldir shook his head. "Nay... Although I have heard of it. It is some sort of competition?"

Legolas nodded. "On Midsummer morning every year, everyone gathers to take part in competitions, warriors and youths alike. _Pâd e-gelaidh_ is the task set before those who would show how accomplished they are in fighting from horse-back among the trees. A short track is prepared, and everyone who dares enter his name into the competition will have to race his horse around the trees and back, using bow and knives to hit targets hidden in the trees and branches. Of course I do not propose to beat you in that – after all you know very well that I am not skilled yet with a blade."

Haldir smirked but otherwise stayed silent while Legolas flushed, yet determinedly continued.

"Children play at _pâd e-gelaidh_ as well, and though you will undoubtedly laugh at me for indulging in children's games yet again, that is what I shall show you. You may laugh at _me_, but I wager you will not laugh at my horse's skill – or if you do, I will have you try to repeat it on a horse of your choosing."

Legolas gave Haldir a confident smile, still flushed for having spoken of the humiliating defeat he had known at Haldir's hands, yet nevertheless secure in himself and his own skills.

"Go on then, show me, so I will see whether I can demand my forfeit of you any time soon," Haldir drawled, but there was none of the usual arrogant dismissal in his expression – indeed Legolas might almost have called it amused encouragement, had he been asked to define the guard's mien.

"'Tis not truly _pâd e-gelaidh_, not even as children play it, but I fear it is the best I can come up with here," Legolas said in apology, then made Lainiell return to the stable's entrance to pick up four more of the wizened apples stored as treats in a large bag there.

"Do you see those posts?" he asked when he returned, pointing towards the unfinished fence to their left. "I will take them as substitutes for a proper track winding through the forest."

Lainiell turned to face the posts at his words, her ears pointing forward, the smallest change in Legolas' seat sign enough for her to understand what was expected of her. Her neck curved and her head lowered, her eyes fixed on the posts as her body seemed to shift and become more compact, the powerful haunches now carrying most of her weight and that of her rider.

There was no signal, no spoken word, but Legolas shifted forward ever so slightly and his thighs tightened, and then the mare exploded forward, the muscles of her hindlegs propelling her forward like an arrow shot from the bow. Three jumps in full gallop and they had reached the first pole, passing it while Legolas, riding without saddle or bridle, reached out and placed an apple on top of the pole – and then the horse threw herself to the left, another jump and they had reached the second pole. Again Legolas placed an apple onto it as easily as if his mount were standing or walking while in truth, the powerful body contracted and twisted beneath him when the horse threw herself to the right in midstride in order to pass between the second and third pole. Likewise, Legolas placed a third and fourth apple on poles, and then they had reached the fifth – and last – pole.

Haldir's eyes widened when instead of riding a small circle like he had expected, the mare threw herself around the pole impossibly close, somehow managing a turn so close that Legolas could have kept his hand on the pole all the time should he have desired so.

Again the mare wound her body around the poles in full gallop, changing direction in mid-stride with the quickness and agility of a cat while Legolas effortlessly picked up the apples from where he had placed them only moments earlier. And when at last they came to a spectacular halt in front of Haldir and Gîlríon – a stop from full gallop with the mare's haunches sliding through the sandy soil – Legolas leaned forward and embraced her neck, laughing with breathless joy while the apples fell from his hands to the ground, so that the horse snorted in satisfaction and took them as her due reward.

\-------------  
_pâd e-gelaidh_ \- way of trees  
\-------------

 

 

**60**

"_Ada_, _ada_, _ada_!" Gîl was fairly bouncing, only held back by Haldir's relentless grip on his hand. "Let me, too! I want to do it, too!"

Legolas laughed again and slid from Lainiell's back, gratefully hugging the mare once more before he turned towards his son.

"When you are bigger, Gîl; I promise I will teach you then."

"When I get my pony I will do that, too!" Gîlríon declared, and Haldir laughed, though for once, there was kindness in it and none of the usual derision.

"I am certain you will – for after all, what better teacher than the fastest rider of _pâd e-gelaidh_ in all of Mirkwood?"

Legolas smiled, flushed with delight and pleasure and some embarrassment at such praise.

"Ai, I am far from that, and you know it!" he demurred. "There is more to _pâd e-gelaidh_ than just a fast horse – but I will gladly take your praise for Lainiell, for she was indeed the fastest horse of Greenwood, and would have made a champion had she but a rider more accomplished at weaponry."

Haldir shrugged. "It might yet come to pass... You are not a warrior yet, we all know the truth of that, but with a teacher like Glorfindel, you have a good chance. And indeed you have just proven your merit on horse-back. It seems that I have lost the wager..."

"I may demand a forfeit then?" Legolas asked, his eyes gleaming as he pondered possibilities – not that he would ever dare demand something outrageous from the former Marchwarden, yet for a moment he could nonetheless enjoy the thought of doing just that.

"Why, I think that is obvious. Had you lost, I would have gotten a kiss from you. Now that _I_ have lost, you will get a kiss from _me_." Haldir smirked at the expression of horrified disbelief this got him.

"Are you jesting?"

Legolas turned at the familiar voice, then smiled in relief when he found that Fairion and Laindir had come up behind him, with half a dozen Imladrian guards waiting a short distance away.

"Aye, he has to be," Fairion replied to his lover's exclamation. "The Valar know that such a thing would be fit reward for no one."

Haldir smirked. "Would you care to find out?"

"Would you care to find out how sharp my blade cuts?" Fairion retorted.

"We saw you ride, Legolas!" Laindir cut in. "I did not know you could do that; I have never seen such a thing before!"

Legolas' blush deepened, for he was still so unused to praise of any sort that he could not help but be embarrassed by the attention.

"It was a truly amazing feat," Fairion agreed. "Your horse has already proven her merit on the slippery and treachery paths through the mountains, but that turn you did – ai, so fast I was certain you would both slip and fall! Mayhap you should become riding instructor for our troops, instead of sharing Thalaron's lessons?"

Haldir grimaced. "Ai, you would rob him of exactly those lessons he needs most? Do not coddle him just because you covet his Lord's sympathy."

Fairion snorted and rested a hand on Legolas' shoulder in support. "He needs no coddling, and in any case, he knows that my words were half spoken in jest. Still, he might benefit more from a single tutor in the art of weaponry, instead of taking part in the youths' lessons. Despite your dishonorable behavior, he showed a lot of promise in that so-called duel."

"Aye, a tutor in archery... Target practice would be a good idea." Laindir's grim look showed that he knew exactly who would make a good target for at least a dozen arrows.

Haldir's eyes narrowed, but before things could escalate, Legolas stepped between them.

"Please... I know that Haldir is right, I still need a lot of training with a blade, and I certainly will not stop taking lessons."

"Come to the barracks again tomorrow, then, if you like – if your Lord can spare you," Laindir added. "If you want, I will train with you. Indeed, I think all of us would be happy to help. We have heard of your potential, and there is not a single one of us who does not look forward to the day when you shall have this guard kneeling before you with your blade at his throat."

Haldir sniggered. "By all means, train him – it is something I truly approve of. Though we shall see about the kneeling part of it..."

Fairion snorted, and Laindir rolled his eyes. "In any case, that so-called guardian of yours is not why we came over. We just finished sparring and want to head over to the baths. Do you want to join us? Gîl looks like he could do with a little cleaning up – we will take one of the pools that are not quite so hot, so that it will not be too much for him."

"Yes! I want to go bathing with them, _ada_!" Gîl exclaimed, and Legolas hid a smile at how quickly his desire to ride on Lainiell was forgotten. But then, the child liked Fairion and Laindir, who had proven amenable to no matter what outrageous games he demanded – and Legolas felt at ease in their company as well.

And yet, to bathe with them, with almost half the company of Noldorin guards... There was an excuse already on Legolas' tongue, but he bit it back, determined not to appear a coward in front of the guards, and especially not in front of Haldir.

Experience had taught him that to make himself vulnerable in such a way would unfailingly result in being hurt. To accept an invitation such as this had too often meant ridicule and humiliation; to appear naked among them might bring him even more hurt, as it had when he had been nothing but Glorfindel's plaything. His Lord was not around to protect him...

And yet he knew that these were Glorfindel's men, people his Lord trusted to protect him – people he had even come to like on their journey. Why was it still so hard then to join them for something as simple and innocent as a bath?

Legolas straightened. He would not let his fear keep him from what he had always wanted – the life that everyone else led, with friends, with acquaintances, a life where to spend an afternoon enjoying himself with people he knew and liked was not a rare treasure but something completely normal.

He was _not_ a victim anymore, and he would not behave like one, especially not in front of Haldir!

"Of course," he said and smiled at Laindir. "Although my Lord wanted to come and meet us here at the stables. Will he know where we are?"

"Gúrloss has to bring a missive to the city anyway," Fairion interjected. "I will have him tell the Captain where to find us; mayhap he will want to join us as well. They might not have hot springs here in the woods, but those heated pools they have come up with are just as comfortable as the baths at home, especially after a long sparring session." He winced and rubbed his shoulders as if in proof.

"I will come with you as well, of course," Haldir said with another of those smirks that made Legolas want to hide and groan in annoyance both at once. "It is my duty as his guard to keep him from being accosted."

"Really?" Fairion said slowly, his eyes darkening in anger. "From what I have heard-"

"Please," Legolas interrupted again. "If he wants, he can come along; I do not mind."

Of course, he _did_ mind – to undress with Haldir's hungry, mocking eyes on him was an experience he could very well do without, and yet admitting to this fear seemed even more terrible to him.

"Very well then, you may come," Fairion said ungraciously. "After all, what better place to think of a forfeit for you? I am certain we will all come up with a lot of suggestions for the Prince."

Legolas bit back a smile at Haldir's glower and entrusted Gîlríon to the keeping of the two guards while he returned Lainiell to her box, feeling guilty that he had only taken her out for such a short time. In the hope that his Lord would find some time on the following day, he promised her a long ride through the Golden Wood then, and gave her another apple in apology.

Haldir kept mercifully silent on the way to the baths, although Legolas was certain that he could feel his ever-present smirk bore into his back. Yet Gîlríon had wheedled his way into being carried on Fairion's shoulders and now pretended that the soldier was a horse. Laindir cried tears of laughter at his lover's whinnying, and even Legolas laughed out loud at the sound.

The other guards were waiting for them at the building that housed the baths, one of them with a parchment in hand that Fairion quickly signed. "Tell the Captain that the Prince and little Gîl are here with us – he can join us if he wants. And do not forget about that cask of ale..."

"As if I would!" The soldier grinned and then left, and Legolas found himself surrounded by the group of Noldor – all of them smiling and greeting him and Gîl, and teasing Fairion about the promotion to mount he seemed to have been given. Gîlríon giggled, obviously well at ease at being the center of attention, and while Legolas was overwhelmed at being surrounded by so many, it also made a warm happiness spread through him at being welcome in their midst. A part of him still could not help but wonder if they had invited him out of pity, because it was obvious to everyone that he had no one apart from his Lord and Gîl, but he rigorously suppressed that thought. This was Gîl's rightful place, and Legolas would not take it away from him for anything, even though he still could not help but fear being shown that he did not belong.

When they went inside at last, the air was warm and damp, and smelling faintly of the minty rub used for sore muscles. Legolas refused to look at Haldir when they undressed, even though he could hear him exchange snide remarks with Laindir, and instead concentrated on helping Gîl, who was too excited to hold still and so made it difficult to free him from tunic and leggings. Legolas smiled when the child raced away to bother Fairion once more as soon as he was freed of his clothes, and then proceeded to undress himself, unhappy with the feeling of self-consciousness he just could not shake. At last, when most of the others had already gone on to wash themselves, he put away their clothing onto a shelf and began to open his braids. He tried not to think of how so far, only Glorfindel had ever seen him this way, for he knew that this was truly not at all alike to undressing for his Lord's eyes, and it made him feel vaguely ashamed to even have these misgivings at all about an occasion so mundane.

"Need help with that?" Haldir asked with a slow smile, taking his time to look Legolas up and down so that the youth had to fight the instinct to cover himself with his hands. Yet he was no maiden to feel embarrassed by such insolent scrutiny – if he truly dreamed of becoming a warrior one day, this should be as normal to him as sparring with others, Legolas knew only too well. He did not _want_ to be embarrassed – he did not want to stay a victim to Haldir's ribald teasing!

Gathering his courage, Legolas looked up to meet Haldir's eyes – then lowered his gaze to study the guard's body in turn, fighting the urge to run away and hide as he forced himself to look at Haldir's member... to _truly_ look, to take in the wiry curls of silver, the shaft that was paler than his Lord's, but – Valar, even soft it was huge! Maybe even thicker than his Lord, though Haldir did not have quite his length, Legolas noted, his mouth dry. Ai, even the smooth sack holding his testes was huge, no comparison to himself at all, as he had feared – but then, that was not what this was about, was it?

"No, thank you", said Legolas, turning away dismissively. "I can do it on my own." He took a step towards the door, then stopped when he saw Laindir returning for them, and glanced back at Haldir. "In any case, I am used to _better_."

He lifted his chin, and copied the guard's arrogant smile. Haldir scowled. Yet Laindir's presence rescued him from any further quips, so that Legolas gave him a grateful smile that he hoped was not too obviously relieved. "I will undo your braids if you help me with mine," the Noldo offered and tugged at a tangled, still somewhat soapy braid with a grin. "It is always the same when we spar – Fairion has given up on them by now. Last time he threatened to just cut them off."

Legolas winced in sympathy. "How cruel! I can try, at least... Gîl's hair tangles easily as well, and I am glad it is not that long yet. I fear he inherited that from his _atar_."

"Yours is always so smooth! I truly envy you," Laindir sighed, wrapping an arm around Legolas' shoulders as he led him through the door into a large room filled with small pools. Some of the Imladrian guards had already immersed themselves in the water, while Fairion and two others were playfully chasing a nude and giggling Gîlríon. They paid no further attention to Haldir who nevertheless followed them, and Legolas did not even have to turn around to know that he was scowling at their backs yet again.

They watched how Fairion at last caught Gîlríon and scooped him up, then carried him towards them to hand him over to Legolas.

"Come, we can wash over there! Sparring was terrible today, I ache all over – I want nothing more now than to lean back in the hot water," Fairion sighed and led them over to the side where stood a row of buckets filled with water, and a shelf stocked with soaps. They quickly washed themselves, Gîl still giggling and trying to escape, and Legolas was glad for the excuse to ignore Haldir, whose eyes he could still feel unashamedly staring at his naked body. Legolas was grateful that by now, all traces of his Lord's punishments had vanished – no welts or bruises marred his back, and even though thinking of being marked in such a way made him quiver inside with a terrible, helpless excitement, now he was relieved that he would at least be spared Haldir's comments on that.

At last, they sank into the hot water, Fairion groaning in bliss when his sore muscles finally relaxed, and Legolas could not even bring himself to resent Haldir who had somehow managed to slide in next to him. "This is wonderful," Legolas sighed, then helped Gîl into the water and pulled him onto his lap. "It is not too hot, is it?"

Gîl shook his head and hit the water with his hand so that it splashed onto Haldir.

Legolas grinned. "If you feel too warm, you will tell me, promise?"

"I promise, _ada_!" Gîl said impatiently, already reaching out his hands to something Fairion pushed towards them – a small wooden boat, Legolas noticed, carved to look like one of the swan boats they had seen on the Celebrant.

"I made it for my little cousin, but he can have it... I still have enough time to carve a whole fleet if I want."

"_Le hannon_," Gîl said obediently when Legolas nudged him, then happily produced waves for the little boat to crest.

Haldir was mercifully silent, and Legolas refused to look at him and so acknowledge whatever way he was currently being stared at. The conversation went from boats to the sea when one Noldo described the huge ship he had seen on a visit to the Grey Havens, and from there to Glorfindel, who had returned from Aman on a ship more than four millennia ago.

"Can we go on a ship too, _ada_?" Gîlríon asked wide-eyed, and Legolas smiled indulgently.

"Not yet, my heart... but your _atto_ has promised that one day, we will sail to Valinor together on just such a ship." He tightened his grip on his son for a moment, his heart so full of love for his child and his Lord who had given him such joy, that it was almost an ache. He pressed a kiss to Gîl's damp, golden locks, not caring if Haldir thought him a maiden for it, and allowed himself to dream for a moment of the life they would lead in Aman, safe from all those who would bring them strife.

"Come, turn around and I will take care of your braids," Fairion then said, and Legolas obediently turned, fighting the heat in his cheeks when he found himself the recipient of Haldir's gaze yet again.

The water went up to his shoulders, and he had Gîl on his lap and was thus covered, yet still he could not help but feel unsettled by being so close to Haldir.

"I like you better with your hair undone," the guard said huskily, and now Legolas felt himself flushing after all.

"And I like you better without your pretty red cloak," Fairion retorted unkindly. "Keep it up, and the Captain will make certain that it stays that way."

Haldir's eyes narrowed, but before he could reply, Legolas all but thrust Gîlríon into his hands.

"Here... take care of him for a moment, while I untangle Fairion's braids. I have decided what forfeit to demand. Orophin said that you were the one who dictated to them the tales for the book you gave Gîl for his begetting day – tell Gîl such a tale now, while I am busy."

Haldir stared at the child on his lap, who stared back completely unintimidated. "The story with the butterfly!" Gîlríon demanded in the tone of one who was used to getting what he wanted, and Legolas turned towards Fairion to hide a snicker. It was not an outrageous demand, nor something as ribald as the Galadhel would have demanded had he won, yet the mirth on the faces of the soldiers told him that maybe, this was even worse – that to become known as an expert on fairytales was even less desirable to the infamous Marchwarden.

\-----------------------  
_atto_ \- affectionate form of "father" [Quenya]  
_ada_ \- affectionate form of "father" [Sindarin]  
_pâd e-gelaidh_ \- way of trees  
_le hannon_ – thank you (formal) [Yes, I know that Salo used 'hannon le' in the movies, but in the attested uses of 'le' Tolkien always had it preceeding the verb, and that is how I've kept it as well.]  
\-----------------------


	7. Chapters 61-67

**61**

Fairion's braids were indeed not easy to unravel, yet Legolas once again found that the skills garnered during his time with the horses came to his advantage here. He had spent countless hours braiding and unbraiding manes and tails, and had also during the last two years fought almost daily with the unruly locks of his Lord. Fairion's warrior braids took some patience, yet despite the few knots he encountered, he soon had them undone.

In the meantime, Haldir had finished his story and seemed more than happy to return Gîlríon to Legolas – and though no one had outright laughed at him, there were expressions of smug amusement on the faces of the Noldorin soldiers. Legolas envied Haldir's calm while facing such resentment. He knew how he had behaved in similar situations, and how his inability to hide his helplessness and hurt at being treated in such a way had always only made matters worse for him. Yet Haldir seemed completely at ease, as if he did not care what others thought – as if he were not even aware of having ever committed any fault.

Legolas wondered at Haldir's decision to join them, for Fairion and Laindir had made it more than obvious what kind of reception awaited him. And yet Haldir had come, had voluntarily joined this group of people who all resented him – was it truly his sense of duty that made him unwilling to shirk this obligation, even though Legolas was more than protected in the midst of his Lord's own soldiers?

Or was it that maybe, fulfilling his duty even in circumstances that left him open to ridicule was Haldir's way of showing that he rued what he had done?

When Legolas dared a careful look at the guard, he found him completely relaxed, stretched out in the water with his head resting on the edge of the pool – a small, smug smile playing on his lips as if he had known that Legolas would be unable to resist looking at him for long.

Maybe Haldir would simply always stay an enigma to him, Legolas decided with a silent sigh.

Gîlríon was once more playing with his little boat, and Laindir began to tell of what he and Fairion had observed earlier, the amazing agility of the Mirkwood-bred mare, and Legolas' astonishing ride.

Legolas was glad that most of them were flushed due to the water's heat, for he felt embarrassed by all this praise, although Laindir seemed truly impressed by his horsemanship. It almost felt like rescue to him when his Lord showed up at last, striding through the door gloriously nude and completely unabashed by all the eyes that rested on him.

Glorfindel smiled at him, then proceeded to quickly wash himself, not even bothering to undo his braids himself before he came to join them in the water. Haldir scooted reluctantly aside after Glorfindel gave him a pointed look, and Legolas smiled, meeting the guard's eyes in the smug awareness that it had been impossible for Haldir to _not_ see that Glorfindel was indeed his better in that most intimate regard.

Gîlríon immediately climbed onto his _atto_'s lap once Glorfindel was immersed in the water, and showed off his new boat. When Glorfindel had sufficiently praised it, he wrapped one arm around Legolas' shoulders to pull him close and pressed a tender kiss to his brow.

"You should have told us, Captain! We would have demanded a demonstration before, had we know what the Prince and his horse can do!"

"Aye, and begged him to train us, too!"

Glorfindel was startled by the chorus of voices, but then gave his men a broad smile. "You should have believed me when I told you that he raced me and won!"

Legolas looked at him in surprise. Had his Lord _bragged_ about him? Bragged, not about his sweet mouth or pliant body, as had been his wont only a year ago, but about his abilities on horseback?

"Only on short distances," he said, feeling a little shaken by the thought of his Lord lauding him so in front of others. "On longer distances, Asfaloth is faster."

"I would not care about long distances if I could do the kind of turns you can," Laindir said with a envious sigh. "No more loitering next to your Lord on the way back – I shall steal you from his side and have you teach me!"

"If Gîl and my Lord can spare me, certainly I will." Legolas smiled at Laindir, remembering his offer to spar with him as well, and wondered if his Lord would agree. Laindir was kind... Sparring with him would certainly not be as nerve-wracking as having lessons with the other youths.

"If you behave during our stay here, I might let Legolas show you." Glorfindel grinned at Laindir's sigh, then turned a little when Legolas took hold of his braids. Braiding or unbraiding his Lord's golden tresses truly came naturally to him now – Legolas could have done it blindfolded, and so it was the work of seconds to unravel the braids. He combed through the heavy mane with his fingers, sighing softly to himself at the gloriousness of it.

Glorfindel turned back then and caught his chin in his hand, taking a kiss from him. It was short and chaste, due to their company, and yet there was such gentle love in the gesture that once again Legolas felt overwhelmed by the thought that this great Lord had chosen _him_ to love.

They continued to play with Gîl and his boat while the conversation around them went on, and even though there were topics Legolas did not feel confident enough to join in, he never felt excluded, for there were many other things he found he _could_ talk about.

Glorfindel's arm around his shoulders felt comforting, making him feel safe, and loved, and when the warmth of the water finally made conversation come to a drowsy lull, Glorfindel moved to press a kiss to his cheek again, smiling at the open adoration in the youth's eyes.

"Now that we have all survived Gîl's begetting day, it is time to prepare for the next celebration, is it not, _pen vell_?" he murmured. "You are all invited, of course," he added for his men.

Legolas looked at him with what seemed almost fearful disbelief, and it made Glorfindel's heart ache to think that the youth must have long since trained himself to no longer even hope for such acknowledgments.

"The 42nd day of your begetting – I am very sorry that I never even thought to ask last year, _pen villen_. But this year, you shall have a feast as is proper. The Lord and Lady plan a banquet for you, and so that it will not be too boring with only their wise advisors in attendance, all of you will have to come as well."

Legolas had flushed at his words, and even though he did not dare to smile, indeed was still afraid that it would turn out to be a jest, his eyes were wide with shocked pleasure, so that Glorfindel tightened his arm around him in loving reassurance.

"_Ada_'s begetting day? Will he get toys like mine?" Gîl asked innocently while around him, the guards bit back laughter. Although Legolas' blush deepened at the question, he did not lower his eyes in humiliation as he once would have done – the laughter of the guards was good-natured, not hateful, and even he himself could not hide his smile at the double entendre of the so innocently asked question.

"Not quite like yours, I wager," he said daringly, rewarded by Glorfindel's low chuckle.

"I would hope not... I can think of gifts far more fitting." Legolas wanted to groan when the amused voice made him remember Haldir's presence. "I will have to think of a present myself then", Haldir continued, "but as we went to the market together, I am certain that I know your... _tastes_ now."

"And we all know _your_ tastes, Haldir, so leave him alone," one of the guards retorted. Legolas could not help but smile at this new, warm experience of knowing himself supported, yet now he almost began to feel sorry for Haldir, as he knew his situation only too well.

"I am certain that the Lord and Lady will have gifts for you as well – after all, you are kin to Lord Celeborn himself," Glorfindel pointed out.

"Ai, so distantly that it hardly counts!" Legolas demurred, and Glorfindel laughed.

"Like your grandfather, Celeborn was a kinsman of Thingol in Doriath; and if that is good enough for him, it should be good enough for you. You will not hear the Lady of Light call me cousin, yet we are kin as well, and she would honor me so were I not already accorded all honor as Captain of Imladris' forces and representative of Elrond."

"You are kin to the Lady Galadriel?"

Glorfindel laughed again at the surprise on Legolas' face.

"Ah, _pen vell_, you did not know? There are little with Vanyarin blood now on these shores; indeed, we might be the only ones. My grandmother was the youngest sister of Indis of the Vanyar, she who married Finwë after Miriel's death and bore him Finarfin, the Lady's father. Indeed, we crossed the Helcaraxë together..." He fell silent for a spell, but then visibly shook off the gloom that had come over him. "In any case, be not so quick to deny claims of kinship; Celeborn is indeed your cousin, though a distant one, and has come to bear you much affection."

"And if he wants to give a banquet in your honor, we will be glad to come!" Fairion said, another adding to much laughter, "We are always glad to be of help when it comes to celebrations!"

Legolas was flushed with pleasure, so pleased at what Glorfindel had planned for him that even Haldir's presence could no longer rile him. He did not truly listen anymore to the conversations that were going on around him, too overcome by happiness to pay attention, and when it was finally time to leave the water, he did so still smiling, helping Gîl out of the water first before he made to follow him.

The child had grown drowsy in the water's heat, and Legolas had been certain that he would fall asleep within minutes and force them to carry him back home, yet as soon as he had left the water, Gîl grabbed his little toy boat and began to run, holding the boat up in the air as if it were flying.

"Look, _ada_, _atto_! Like the story you told me, about the _adar_ of Lord Elrond! The boat sails in the sky!"

"Gîl! Do not run, you will slip!" With a sigh, Legolas got out of the water to follow him, certain now that Gîl must have indeed inherited his _atar_'s stamina.

Gîl giggled, running faster so that his _adar_ would not catch him, but after a few steps Legolas finally caught up with him and pulled him up into his arms. Gîl laughed as if they had been playing tag, so that Legolas had to force himself to give him a stern look, chiding him for his carelessness and disobedience, and took his boat from him until he showed better behavior.

His chase had brought him to the far end of the large room where a little earlier, a group of Galadhrim had claimed a large pool; now from the corner of his eyes he saw a whispered exchange take place, and one of them made to leave the water.

Legolas quickly turned around and hurried back to his Lord, pretending that he had not seen him even though he felt hot with miserable shame at what he knew to be his own cowardice. Glorfindel came towards him, his eyes suspiciously narrowed, and Legolas moved past him back to where the guards were leaving their pool, glad to be able to hide behind his Lord even though it filled him with shame to have everyone witness his cowardice. And yet he was so sick of confrontations – no matter what this was about, he just could not bear any more allusions to how he was a victim of his Lord rather than his beloved, for in truth this hurt far worse than hearing himself called a whore, as he had so often been before.

He risked a shy look back, finding his Lord still rigid with displeasure even though his conversation with the Galadhel seemed polite, and when the other turned to look at him, Legolas almost flinched, quickly turning away again to face Laindir.

"What is it? Is he trying to give you trouble?" the guard asked, and Legolas shook his head.

"I do not know, but... I can guess what this is about."

Miserably, Legolas thought back to the news that Rúmil had brought them, and how Glorfindel had later gone to talk to Lord Celeborn who had been confronted by his guards about the signs of abuse Legolas sported. Glorfindel had not said much about it when he returned, and Legolas knew that was probably because his Lord was aware that he wanted to neither think nor talk about that matter. And in truth, from what he _had_ said, there had not been much to tell. Lord Celeborn was of course aware of the nature of their relationship and knew that – at least by now – Legolas surrendered himself to his Lord willingly, and that what marks Glorfindel left on his skin, he bore proudly.

Lord Celeborn had informed his guards that it was a private matter between them, and that he could vouch that there was neither force nor threat involved in their relationship – yet still Legolas could not help but feel shame at the way everyone was aware of the most intimate details of his life.

And now, everyone was aware that he was a coward as well, that he could not even face one of the Galadhrim who had sought to protect him, however misguided.

Legolas swallowed, knowing that he had flushed a bright red, and felt shame for that as well. His Lord already knew him a coward, and now his Lord's guards whom he had come to look up to would know it as well, and Gîl...

He looked at his son, still wet and looking downtrodden after his toy had been taken from him, and tried to think of him grown, his own age. Was there any way he could _not_ feel shame for who and what his father was, or had been?

Yet to have his own son look at him with disgust for his weakness...

"Can you take him for a moment?" At Laindir's nod, he handed Gîlríon over to him. "Do not let him run away again. I will be back in a moment."

He took a deep breath and turned to walk towards where Glorfindel still faced the Galadhel, his heart beating fast in his chest at the thought of how humiliating it would be to be called his Lord's victim again in front of his Lord's own men – men he had secretly hoped might become something like friends to him one day.

He stopped next to Glorfindel, shy and too insecure to say something, yet when his Lord's arm came around his waist in an open display of possession, the touch gave him strength as well.

"Your Highness," the Galadhel said and bowed, obviously uncomfortable with the situation, and Legolas found some of his own embarrassment vanish at the sight.

"Forgive me for disturbing you here; I have come only to apologize. It was never our intention to cause you embarrassment, and we are very sorry to have hurt you by our actions. I hope that you will forgive us; it was truly only our intention to help."

Legolas swallowed, still ill at ease even though he was glad that there were no accusations against his Lord; certainly the guards' own Lord had taken care of that.

"Thank you," he said softly, his voice faltering – what else could he say to the Galadhel? He could not, he _would_ not talk about his Lord or what was between them!

"Yes, we thank you for the apology," Glorfindel came to his rescue then. "And please, if in the future you feel the need for clarification, come to see me, or Legolas. I would not keep him from you; and indeed, though he is young still, he is not a child, and you would do well not to treat him as one."

Legolas smiled at his Lord's defense of him, and the Galadhel bowed again before he returned to the pool where his friends were waiting.

"It was good of him to apologize," Glorfindel said, brushing Legolas' cheek with his lips. "Still, they should have come to talk to you before going to Celeborn; they indeed treated you like a child, and that will not do. You are a Prince, and kin to their Lord, and I will see you honored as such. Now come, you are still wet, and too beautiful to stand around unclad in a room with the likes of Haldir."

Legolas laughed at that and let his Lord lead him back to where Laindir had already wrapped a large towel around Gîlríon to dry him. Glorfindel took a towel from a stash as well and pulled Legolas a little to the side under the pretense of drying him.

"Mmh... I remember how you felt this morning," Glorfindel murmured thoughtfully, his breath hot against Legolas' ear so that the youth shivered with helpless delight, forgetting all about his earlier embarrassment. "So sweet and tight... So good. Always so good with you." He pressed a tender kiss to Legolas' nape, his arms coming around his towel-clad prince to hold him close for a moment.

"Will you ravish me right here and show those Galadhrim just how willing I truly am?" Legolas whispered teasingly, laughing softly when Glorfindel growled at his words.

"Careful, _roch neth_ \- do not tempt me!"

Legolas smiled and turned in his Lord's arms, forgetting all about their audience as he allowed himself to fully enjoy the hard, strong body he found himself pressed against. "This evening, when Gîl is asleep... You could chastise me for teasing you, my Lord," he said, his eyes lowered coyly. "Certainly such behavior is inappropriate for a Prince?"

Glorfindel's eyes were dark with arousal, and there was such promise in them that Legolas felt breathless – had his Lord commanded him to turn around and lean against the wall in offering, he knew that he would have done it.

"I think it is obvious to all present just how willing you indeed are," Glorfindel said and chuckled darkly. "Take care, princeling, you truly are in need of disciplining!" He took Legolas' mouth in a bruising kiss then, only to at last push him away almost violently.

"Dry yourself," he said, his voice unsteady, "otherwise I will truly end up giving an entertainment I did not intend to all those watching."

Legolas swallowed, a hot blush returning to his cheeks as he became aware of their audience once again, and yet he could not keep a smile from his lips as he watched his Lord walk away, once more overwhelmed and awed by how it was he who had the power to affect this great Lord so.

\------------------  
atto – affectionate form of "father" [Quenya]  
ada – affectionate form of "father" [Sindarin]  
atar – father [Quenya]  
adar – father [Sindarin]  
pen villen - beloved one  
pen vell – dear one  
roch neth – colt  
\------------------

 

 

**62**

Legolas paused and wiped the sweat from his brow. This was his third training session with Fairion, and the guard was a kind, but demanding taskmaster. Still, even though sparring with the guard was hard work, Legolas could not help smiling, for Fairion did not lose his humor even as a teacher.

And what was more important was that they were alone. Fairion had chosen a secluded place behind the barracks for their sparring, and even though every now and then one of the other guards wandered by, they never stayed for long, and Legolas never heard anything but encouragement from them. It was quite unlike his daily training sessions with the other youths at Imladris where he perpetually feared that he would give the others cause to laugh at him, and where he had always only been an outsider.

This was only their third such meeting in Lórien, yet already a trust had been built between him and Fairion which was quite unlike the respectful obedience that Thalaron's position demanded. Legolas would not dare to call the guard a friend yet – he had had little of those, and in the few cases where he thought there was friendship, it had later been proven to him that he was the only one who thought it friendship, when in truth his so-called friends had looked down at him.

Legolas did not think that he even knew how to build a friendship anymore, yet Fairion was so kind, so patient and encouraging, treating him not as a whore or a child as most others had in Imladris, but someone whose opinions and ideas he was genuinely interested in. Legolas worshipped him for it, idolizing him as he had once idolized his brother, and then later Glorfindel. If only he could become like the guard, a well-liked, accomplished member of their community who had certainly never spent days on end doubting himself or worrying about the most inconsequential things as Legolas was wont to...

No, Fairion was the embodiment of all that he had ever aspired to be, and Legolas was resolved to show that even though he was far from gaining mastery with a weapon, he was still a diligent and attentive pupil.

"You do very well with your sword, Legolas," Fairion said after another bout. "I did not witness your duel with Haldir, but I was told that he gave you a heavy weapon to further his own advantage. You should not see your build as something negative to be overcome, but instead as giving you the advantage of quickness. Once you have gained the sword skills of someone like Haldir, it will always be to your advantage – there will be more force in his thrusts, but yours will be faster."

"If I ever do reach that skill... Truly, I will be glad if I gain sufficient skill not to embarrass my Lord."

Fairion shrugged and grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat from his brow. "I do not have the experience of Thalaron who has taught our youth for many decades now, but you are as alert and hard-working a pupil as one can ask for. You might be behind in skills compared to the others, but you make good progress; if we keep up our sparring, I am certain that Thalaron will have quite a surprise if you decide to rejoin his sword lessons.

"Still, I have been thinking... We get along well, do we not? I might not have Thalaron's expertise, but I do enjoy our sparring. We could continue even when we return home. I might not find the time every day, but Laindir and the others would be just as glad to help, and if we are away on patrol, you could still join the other youths. How would you like that? I shall ask the Captain myself, if you agree..."

Legolas' eyes widened in surprise – never so far had any of the Imladrian Noldor offered to spend time with him, and he flushed a little with both pleasure and a slight embarrassment at his obvious happiness. "I would like that very much!" he exclaimed, wondering whether his Lord might agree to such a thing. "It seems much easier to understand when you explain things. In Thalaron's lessons I am always the last to master a skill, as the others already know so much more than I do. I do not feel quite so lacking in talent when you teach me, and you do not make me feel awkward or laugh at me ... "

"I wager that most of them are jealous of you. The Captain is much admired and coveted, and certainly most of them begrudge you his love for you."

Legolas frowned, for he had never seen it in such a way. He was an outsider in the lessons, as he had always been, yet he had not given it much thought. Thalaron was strict in his own way and had made certain that there was no further bullying of him, and for that he was glad. He knew that he was neither liked nor accepted by the others, yet unlike during lessons in Mirkwood when his status as pariah had left him with helpless despair at every new day, here in Imladris he needed no friendship with those his own age to fill his days. His time – and his heart – was well taken up with his Lord and little Gîl.

"I am certain he will agree," Fairion continued. "It is not so unusual in any case. Glorfindel himself was the twins' tutor with the sword, and they would join regular training only every now and then, when Glorfindel wanted them to spar with someone at their own level of training."

Fairion slung a companionable arm around Legolas' shoulders as they slowly walked back to the barracks to avail themselves of the pump there, washing the sweat from their faces with water that was shockingly cold on their heated skin.

"There is something else that I have wanted to say for some time..." Fairion sighed deeply and gave Legolas a searching look. "You must think us Noldor all monsters, but I am very sorry for how you have been treated in Imladris. We mostly live at the barracks, at least those of us without families of our own, and do not take our meals in the great hall, but I know that most there have not been kind to you. That is inexcusable, truly, and in the future, those of us who encounter someone who refuses you the respect you deserve will make certain that they learn that we do not agree with such behavior. We have known your Lord for a long time, and love him well; you have made a dream come true which he has held since before leaving Aman, yet which he thought was out of his reach for all eternity. And yet we have not come to support you only because you gave him the heir he has longed for for so many Ages...

"You are kind and compassionate, and you have come to love him as we who have know him for so long do. And we see him so unabashedly, proudly in love with you and Gîl, giving you all his heart when before, he would share only pleasure with lovers, but never more. It pleases us to see that he has finally found the happiness he has always wanted, for there is no one who deserves it more than he. I know that he wronged you greatly, but what has grown between you is stronger and truer than any bond he has ever shared with a lover before, and I am certain that he would now give his own life to protect you and Gîl from any harm."

Legolas blushed, not quite certain what to say. To know himself supported in such a way filled his heart with warmth, for the days in Lórien were the best he had ever known, and Fairion's promise made him yearn to continue to have such after their return to Imladris. He did not know what the likes of Erestor would say if their treatment of him was ever opposed by Glorfindel's men, yet if his Lord agreed to Fairion's suggestion, he would spend an hour or two every day in the company of people he had come to like and admire, and who in turn seemed to enjoy his company as well. But would leaving the lessons with the other youths behind be running away again? He did not know, yet he was an outsider in their company just as he had been in Mirkwood, and nothing he could do or say would ever change their opinion of him. No, even if others thought him a coward for shunning the company of the Imladrian youths, certainly it would be better to spend his time with those who made him feel courageous and secure in himself and his abilities. If what Fairion had predicted indeed came true one day, then certainly he would be much better equipped to win the respect of the others if he was skilled with the sword and no longer afraid of being ridiculed.

"Thank you. I am glad to have your support," he said softly. "He swore a sacred oath to protect Gîl and me. He cannot change the past, but now... No, I do not fear him. If I bring him happiness, as you believe, then I can ask for nothing more."

"Ai, he is proud as only a new father can be, and completely besotted with you – and we are all glad to see it." Fairion clasped Legolas' shoulder and grinned, trying to dispel the youth's pensive mood. "And it is your begetting day tomorrow, too. Are you afraid yet? I am certain that your Lord will have planned something completely outrageous to surprise you. At least we know that it has to be small enough to carry it with us through the mountain pass."

"Ai – you make it sound as if he will give me a young oliphaunt!" Legolas looked truly worried for a moment as he remembered the illustrations in a precious tome out of far Harad which had been bound in the thick, grey hide of that very creature.

"Oh, I doubt that; we would not get it over the mountains," Fairion said, laughing at the thought. "But just imagine their faces if we arrived home like that, with an oliphaunt trailing after our horses! Still, I am certain that he will make it an unforgettable day for you – he is good with celebrations, as are we!" He grinned. "Truly, we are beholden to you; after the morning drills, we have naught else planned tomorrow until the evening feast, and the day after that he has declared a holiday for us."

"Certainly he knows that will be needful," Legolas said teasingly, and Fairion grinned but did not protest.

"Ah, but that is why we are invited, I thought. There will be enough stuffy advisors and diplomats to make up for our overindulgence. How about that stiff-mannered brother of yours? Will he be there as well? I heard the last time he was present for a dinner, he showed that he knows neither tact nor manners..." Fairion's eyes darkened to a stormy grey as he pondered the incident that Legolas remembered only too well.

"No, Eru be praised," Legolas said fervently. "My Lord wanted him there just as little as you or I, but he said it would be impolitic to flatly refuse to invite him. Lord Celeborn had a missive sent which was worded in such a way that my brother is only obliged to send one of this companions to keep up appearances. My Lord says that the one who will come is much more diplomatic than my brother, so he will not bother us or try to sow discord."

"Ah, good news indeed!" There was a satisfied look on Fairion's face. "Now will you wait for your Lord here, or will that arrogant bastard of a former Marchwarden be available to do his duties for once?" Legolas' eyes swept across the wide, plain space between the barracks, lighting up in pleasure when there indeed was his Lord coming forward to meet them, holding Gîl in his arms who excitedly called for his _ada_.

Legolas took his son into his arms and kissed his cheek, setting him down with a small laugh when Gîl began to squirm. He tilted his head up to kiss his Lord in welcome then, only to bite back a soft moan when Glorfindel noticeably stiffened and pulled him roughly against his body. "I want to strip you, lick the sweat from your chest," Glorfindel breathed, his voice deep and dark with sudden hunger so that Legolas melted into his embrace for a moment, a similar hunger curling in his belly and groin when strong, possessive hands grasped his hips to pull him even tighter against Glorfindel's body.

"Yes, just ignore me," Fairion said with a long-suffering sigh. "I wonder why Laindir never greets me in such a way – might that be because our Captain would have us flogged for such a display? Come, Gîl, let us look for the cat with the striped kittens; I saw her near the mess this morning."

Glorfindel grinned when the guard led Gîl away, leaving them alone so that at last, he could kiss Legolas the way he had wanted to since first seeing him still flushed from exercise. "Spar with me," he said hoarsely when their lips parted at last, "Strip to the waist, let me appreciate your beauty while we fight."

Legolas' fingers flew to the hem of his tunic in unthinking obedience, pulling it over his head, but then he swallowed and gave Glorfindel an uncertain look. "Here, Lord?"

"No – let us return to where Fairion took you. I will not share what is mine and mine alone with the eyes of others..." He trailed a hand down the youth's chest, the silken skin hot and damp with perspiration, then shrugged off his own tunic. They left the garments and their sword-belts in the grass next to the pump before they returned to the space which Fairion had chosen mostly for its solitude – which was exactly what Glorfindel wanted at that moment.

They were both flushed and a little breathless, and Legolas felt no apprehension at all at being tested against Glorfindel's mettle – his Lord's eyes showed his emotions all too clearly, and there was an excited hunger in them. He would not perform for the detached and critical eyes of a teacher, but instead be expected to show off his body for the admiring eyes of a lover.

When his Lord attacked, the way the sun glistened on Glorfindel's muscled chest stole his breath, his mouth dry with a sudden surge of desire. He remembered then Glorfindel's words how his beauty could come to his advantage in a fight, if his opponent could be roused by the beauty of a male body, and knew them to be true, for instead of thinking about how to best block and parry his Lord's slow attacks, his arousal grew at the paragon of virile beauty flaunted before him, strong muscles flexing beneath smooth, golden skin. Already he ached for his touch, wishing nothing more than that his Lord would make use of his unrivaled skill to disarm and subdue him, using him for the pleasure they both wanted.

"Very good – I see that you progress well under Fairion's tutelage," Glorfindel said at last, distracted by the sheen of sweat that gleamed in the hollow of Legolas' throat.

"He wants to suggest to you that I should keep sparring with him even when we return," Legolas volunteered shyly, his chest heaving from the exertion. "He thinks that I will profit more from single lessons than from sharing those of the others..."

"You certainly seem to get along well, and I can see the improvement in your technique even after so short a time... Very well, I will talk to him about it."

Again Glorfindel attacked, smiling to see Legolas sigh and then laugh at his own clumsiness, glad to see the youth for once not despair at lacking a skill it was impossible for him to have. Once more he attacked, his movement much faster now, swiping aside the sword that had come up in a helpless parry and driving it from Legolas' hands so that it fell to the ground. His hand opened and his own fine, Valinor-forged blade joined it in such open neglect that Legolas' eyes widened and even when his Lord's body bore him to the ground, he exclaimed, "Ai, Elbereth! Thalaron would have us stay for an hour of additional work for such a thing!"

"Oh, I will give you additional exercise," Glorfindel groaned and grabbed Legolas' hands to pull them up, forcefully pressing them into the grass above his head with one hand while he frantically scrambled at the ties of his leggings with the other. Impatiently, he freed the youth's quickly hardening length from its confines, then yanked open the ties holding his own breeches closed. He lowered his head, groaning again as he tasted the youth's skin, the clean, salty sweat, the uniqueness that was Legolas even more pronounced than usually now.

"How I want you!" he breathed, holding himself motionless and balanced on his elbows above the youth as he took in the flushed, aroused body beneath him. "You drive me mad as no one else has ever done! So beautiful, so innocent _still_, yet so wanton, as though Eru himself created you solely for this most flattering responsiveness to my every touch, the way you make me feel as if there is no one else in this world as important as I am to you..."

He took the youth's lips with enough force to bruise, both frantically trying to get rid of their remaining clothes, and when that was achieved, he could not even bring himself to stop for long enough to see if the youth was prepared for him. He had smugly watched when his Prince had dutifully applied some oil in the morning, but that had been long before he had left to spar with Fairion... Yet even if Glorfindel had thought to bring oil or salve, he doubted that he would have been able to wait long enough to use it, for the need for his Prince grew to almost madness in him. He took him roughly, the residue of oil easing his way at least somewhat, yet both of them cried out, tears running down Legolas' face from the sudden shock and the stretching that as always seemed painful beyond bearing.

"Please, please..." Legolas gasped, his slender thighs sliding up over Glorfindel's hips, clenching around his waist almost painfully, and Glorfindel growled when he realized that the youth was not resisting the rough treatment, pleading for mercy from his Lord, but instead was begging for more, needing to feel him deeper, harder inside him.

He slammed into him, hearing the youth cry out for him again and again, so sweet and tight around him, so _yielding_, surrendering himself without holding back anything...

"I want to fill you with my seed until you are with child again," Glorfindel groaned, hungrily staring down at the way Legolas writhed beneath him. "I want to see you heavy with my child once more..."

Legolas whimpered and arched against him. "I want it too, Lord," he moaned breathlessly, closing his eyes to give himself over to his Lord's complete domination of him, utterly overpowered by the strong body that held him pressed down to the ground, that cleaved him to the core of his being with every powerful thrust. And when Glorfindel came inside him at last he cried out weakly, trembling beneath him as he found release as well, knowing himself a possession in truth, a willing slave, owned, desired, loved.

 

 

 

**63**

 

Darkness surrounded them. The sun had set long ago, Gîl was peacefully asleep, and his Lord had slaked his lusts on his willing body, as was his wont at the end of nearly every day. With a smile on his lips, Legolas stretched, deliciously aware of how relaxed and sated his body felt, parts of him aching pleasurably. His Lord was a reassuring presence next to him, solid and warm, breathing so slowly that he seemed to have slipped into reverie already.

This, Legolas thought drowsily, was what happiness was like. He could almost feel the love surrounding him like a cocoon of warmth, and his heart ached with the surge of tenderness he felt towards the Lord whom he loved and worshiped above all other.

Glorfindel's hand rested on the bed between them, and Legolas covered it with his own, still feeling almost surprised at his own daring, and at the indescribable knowledge that he _could_ touch his Lord so, when he had never touched another in such a way and had almost given up hope that he ever would.

Legolas stroked the hand that he knew so well, the strong fingers that were calloused by sword and reins, and smiled a little wonderingly to himself. Such intimacy conveyed by such a small touch – it was such a little thing to almost everyone else, and yet to him it meant so much. To know that he had a right to touch another so, to know with absolute certainty that he would not be rejected – his fingers curled around his Lord's, and his heart was filled with a voiceless prayer of gratitude.

Then Glorfindel's hand gently tightened around his own, so that Legolas knew that his Lord was still awake.

“What I said earlier,” Glorfindel began with unwonted hesitation. “You know that whatever I might say... 'tis not in my power to decide, Legolas. After so many years, I _cannot_ stop wishing for more children," he admitted painfully, so that Legolas turned and wrapped his arm around his waist, pressing himself close as if to instinctively assuage this deep hurt. "It is not in my power to decide, but even if it were, I would wait until you are at least of age. I almost lost you the last time - I _cannot_..."

"I know!" Legolas whispered, trembling as he remembered what it had been like, the pain, the fear, the _strangeness_ when his body did things, became things that it had never been meant to. There had been so much despair, and no hope, no hope for him at all...

But there was hope now, and Glorfindel's love, and Gîl whom he loved more than anything. "It would be different now, Lord," he admitted softly in the darkness. "I would not despair now... I am frightened, yes, but I know what will happen. I have your strength and your love, and I know that any child that the Valar give to us will be cherished as it should be."

"You are very brave, Legolas, braver than many I know. You do not believe me, but it is the truth. Not many could have lived through what you did and still retained their hope, their compassion."

Glorfindel pressed a kiss to Legolas' brow, then sought his mouth for a long, tender kiss that made Legolas sigh and relax against him, the youth's happiness a palpable thing for him to thrill at.

"Whatever happens, whether there will be another child or not, know that you will always have my love," Glorfindel promised, one of his hands cupping Legolas' cheek. The youth trustingly leaned further into his touch, and Glorfindel had to bite back another promise, an oath that he would love him until the world's end, until Arda was unmade and beyond.

But this oath was not for the secrecy of the night, when there was only Legolas to hear. He had been a coward for too long, had made too many mistakes - this one thing he would do right. It could never make up for all that he had done, but to have this declaration made publicly, to show the youth the respect and the love he deserved for all to see, it was the least thing he could do.

"Have you never..." Legolas began, then hesitated, only daring to go on after Glorfindel had reassured him.

"To live so long," Legolas said wonderingly. "My mind cannot yet encompass such a thing, to imagine you walking in the light of the Trees, to know that you were a part of all the tales I have read in the books of lore... To live so long, and to always want a thing you cannot have, I thought, I wondered..." He stumbled over his words and bit his lip, glad now for the darkness that hid his blush. "Was there never... Would it not have been easier to wed a maiden who could give you children?"

Glorfindel chuckled softly. "Indeed, and I have been asked that often. What it comes down to, _roch neth_, is the question of whether I desire children more than I desire love. I am many things - cruel, they say, arrogant, vain, I willfully disregard many of the rules others think necessary. Yet I am also very old, Legolas, and old-fashioned in many ways, you might say. I always knew that I would never wed, save for love. And you know me, you know what I am like - there can be no love without passion for me. A maiden's body has never roused me. Oh, I might have made myself lie with one, but only to beget a child - there would have been no true love. The love of friendship, yes, but not the love that binds _fëar_ and _hröar_ before Eru himself, so that even when Arda is unmade, the bond will remain...

"I would not play with such a thing. I would not do that to a maiden or to myself, nor especially to a child. In the end, I knew it was easier to grieve for the children I never had than to grieve an eternity for the love I never found."

He could feel Legolas smile against his chest, and wished once more that he could reassure him, for at last it seemed that he had found everything he had ever wanted, even though he had not recognized it at first.

"But, if you have never desired a maiden," Legolas began, only to fall silent once more in embarrassment. "I... when I was with child, and afterwards, when I suckled Gîl, I... I must have looked very strange to you," he whispered. "I looked like a maiden, did I not?"

Glorfindel smiled and tightened his hold on him in reassurance. "No, you did not look strange to me, you looked wondrous," he said softly. "Do you not remember what you did to me? Do not tell me that you have forgotten how very much it aroused me to see you so changed! You were no maiden - there was all the beauty of the male youth in you, and yet you were different. It was my child that changed you so, cradled within your womb, and you know very well just how much that thought pleased me. It made me feel very... virile, very powerful to see you so. It was my seed that was growing inside you, my seed that changed you so – it was as if your body belonged more to me than it did to you. No, it did not make you seem strange, or a maiden, it made you _precious_ to me; it made you mine."

Legolas laughed softly, and Glorfindel smiled, aware and happy that Legolas knew him well enough at last to understand that dominant, possessive streak of his. Indeed, there was love and pride in calling him a possession, for it was a thought that thrilled him, and both of them knew the love that was at the heart of everything that passed between them now. Calling him his possession meant but that Legolas had his love, and there was no longer the shadow of the slave between them who had been hurt and humiliated until he had lost all hope.

~~~

Glorfindel woke at dawn. He took care not to rouse Legolas as he stood up and slowly dressed, then made his way into the sitting room of their _talan_ where a luxurious breakfast had been left, just as he had arranged. There was a bottle of sparkling pear cider, slices of smoked duck, half a smoked eel, boiled eggs, a jar of honey, the almond cakes Legolas loved as well as dark rye bread and a lighter loaf of wheat, preserved fruits, pickled vegetables, pale sheep cheese and a pot of steaming mint tea. There was enough food so that they could have kept in their _talan_ all day if they desired, but of course there was a feast waiting for them later that day as well in the royal _talan_.

Glorfindel filled a large plate with samples of the food, then took the bottle and two goblets with him when he returned to their bedroom. The sun had finally risen fully over the horizon and now filled the room with bright rays of sunshine while Legolas was still deeply lost in reverie. With a somewhat wicked smile Glorfindel pulled at the thin sheet so that it slid from the youth's body, leaving him gloriously nude, fully exposed to the caressing rays of golden light as well as Glorfindel's appreciative gaze.

Legolas made a soft sound then, turning a little to escape the glare of the sun that was shining directly into his face. Glorfindel bit back a pleased sound when that motion exposed his relaxed genitals to his eyes, beautifully formed and alluring as they rested against his left thigh. He thought of kissing him, tasting the soft skin, tantalizing with gentle touches until the limp organ, the soft pouch would stir under his touch and grow taut with need for him. Legolas would look beautiful then, as he did now, would still look innocent even when fully aroused, and even the thought of it woke a ravenous hunger within Glorfindel.

Yet there was a tender beauty in observing him so innocently asleep, a vision of tantalizing eroticism even though his mind wandered in reverie and his body was limp with sleep. It was his vulnerability that beguiled him so, Glorfindel decided, for he was completely unguarded and unaware of how exposed he was, his relaxed genitals on show for Glorfindel's appreciative gaze, unconsciously inviting his touch.

Glorfindel looked towards the large wooden box that held Legolas' begetting day gifts. He had thought to wake him, to break their fast together in bed and surprise him with the presents before Gîl woke, so that they would have this time to themselves. He had wanted to begin the day that so far had never truly been acknowledged the way it should have been in a gentle and loving way, to surprise Legolas, and to please him.

Only now when he looked upon the youth's body, saw him so vulnerably exposed, his heart began to beat faster with desire, and he found he could not help himself. He _needed_ to put his mark on him, to touch that lovely body - how could he not want to take advantage of what was so innocently put on show for him here?

He still wanted to do what he had prepared, to make this morning joyous for the one who held his heart, and yet now he also found that he wanted to keep Legolas like this, wanted to keep him exposed and vulnerable for his own pleasure during the hour or two they had left before Gîl would wake.

Glorfindel went to the parcel which Legolas had so often eyed with dread and excitement both - the parcel with the toys Haldir had chosen to embarrass him. There had been an item in there which he was certain would please both Legolas and himself, and yes - of course embarrass the youth somewhat. Glorfindel smiled to himself when he imagined how Legolas would blush, and still never dare to disobey his Lord in this. And after all, it was but a little thing, embarrassing mayhap but meant for pleasure alone, unlike the clamps which he had put to such good use as well...

Glorfindel took a small item of leather and metal from the box, pleased when Legolas did not wake even when he sat down on the bed and gently stroked a slender thigh. The youth sighed once but remained lost in reverie, even when Glorfindel began to carefully handle the relaxed genitals. The metal ring he fit over the slender shaft, pulling it down to the root, then closed a connected strap of leather behind shaft and scrotum both. Legolas sighed again at these intimate touches, closer to waking now, yet even wandering in reverie he did not try to move away from his Lord's hands but kept himself willingly exposed, so that Glorfindel could not bite back a small sound of lust at this sign of his complete mastery.

There was one more small strap which he pulled up and connected it to the metal ring. It pushed the youth's pouch up and forward and divided the glands inside, the skin taut across the firm balls that looked exposed and vulnerable now, on show for his pleasure. Legolas mumbled something that might have been his name, the unusual stimulation finally breaking through his dreams, and Glorfindel gazed on his handiwork with a satisfied smile. The black leather was a most pleasing contrast with his prince's fine, pale skin, and he resolved to not allow him any clothes apart from the decoration he now wore while they took their breakfast together and later looked through the presents he had gotten him.

Glorfindel ran one finger along the still limp organ, then could not resist and bent down to press a kiss to the soft skin. Legolas was rousing a little now, blood starting to flow so that the smooth length twitched, slowly hardening. Glorfindel smoothed the foreskin back, breathing hotly on the sensitive, exposed glans so that Legolas shuddered beneath him, almost awake now, and then he closed his mouth around the tip of the cock, gently sucking so that Legolas came awake at last, gasping his name.

"Good morning, _roch neth_," Glorfindel breathed, amused at the small sound of dismay the youth made when the glans slipped wetly from his lips. "Awake at last?" He leaned forward to kiss him, pleased when Legolas moaned in sleepy pleasure, then drew back and chuckled at his confused expression when Legolas finally realized the strange, constricting presence around his genitals.

Glorfindel did not explain and did not move back to let the youth see what it was he had done to him - half draped across the slender body as he was, it was impossible for Legolas to see what it was that began to grip his hardening length so tightly.

Instead, Glorfindel reached for the goblets he had placed on a nightstand next to Legolas' head, giving one to the youth while keeping the other. "The Valar's blessings on your begetting day, _pen villen_," he said gently, smiling at the surprised pleasure that shone from Legolas' face. They both drank before Glorfindel stole another kiss, the youth's mouth now tasting tartly of pears with a hint of the cider's effervescence.

Glorfindel grinned then and suddenly moved back, taking another mouthful from the goblet before he dove down and took Legolas' shaft into his mouth, amused at the way the youth only barely bit back a cry. The hot length twitched and grew to aching hardness within his mouth, teased by Glorfindel's tongue as well as the sparkling pearls of gas from the cider, and Glorfindel teased the confined, divided pouch with his fingers until he could feel the globes straining ripe and taut against the thin skin and the dark leather that parted them, prominently on display for eyes and fingers alike beneath the erect length.

"So beautifully _male_!" he breathed when he finally drew back. "How can you think I would not appreciate this?"

He pressed a kiss to a vulnerable globe, sucked gently on it while Legolas whimpered and grabbed the sheets. His legs parted further instinctively, as if to tempt Glorfindel with the small entrance now revealed, rosy and tight when he remembered all too well how red and swollen the small muscle had looked the night before, glistening with white specks of his release.

"So very tempting," he murmured and blew once more against the glistening red glans just to hear Legolas gasp. "But I will not take you now, no matter how much you beg. It is early yet, but who knows when Gîl will wake, and I have looked forward to giving you my presents too much."

"Presents, Lord?" Legolas asked and swallowed when Glorfindel slithered up his body again to rest next to him.

"Yes, presents," Glorfindel said in amusement at the surprised and eager gleam in Legolas' eyes, glad now that he had taken every care possible to make this a day the youth would remember for a long time. "But first, let us break our fast, _roch neth_; your taste has made me hungry!"

He silenced Legolas' sigh of disappointment with another quick kiss, then turned to take the plate he had prepared. When he placed it on the bed next to them, he found Legolas staring wide-eyed at his bound, straining genitals, red and glistening wetly and looking just as obscenely inviting against the paleness of the youth's skin as he had hoped for.

"Do not dare to touch what is mine!" Glorfindel threatened darkly, and Legolas flinched, guiltily pulling the hand away that had curiously slid down his belly.

"Good," Glorfindel praised then. "Make certain you behave, _roch neth_ \- it is your begetting day, and I do not want to have to discipline you. But if you are good, maybe I will do something about that later on."

He nodded in amusement towards the achingly hard shaft while Legolas sighed in obedient resignation. Then Glorfindel poured them more of the cider and put a piece of the sheep cheese against Legolas' lips, tempting the youth with morsels of his favorite food until it seemed that he had completely forgotten about the prince's predicament.

Yet of course Glorfindel had not - how could he with such temptingly exhibited beauty? Legolas' shaft still stood hard as steel against his belly, a vivid red from all the blood that had rushed into it and was now kept from leaving by the leather contraption Glorfindel had put on him. Below the shaft, his balls were on display, round and taut as ripe plums from the leather strap that divided them and forced them apart.

Glorfindel touched him then, cupping the hot genitals in his strong hand while he kept feeding Legolas with the other, so demonstratively possessive that Legolas trembled and then relaxed against him, legs falling further apart in surrender while Glorfindel palmed his aching testes.

“Not complaining even once... That is very good!” Glorfindel murmured once the plate was emptied, pressing another kiss against Legolas' neck. “Time for your reward then...”

Instinctively, Legolas looked down to where his aching shaft was still expertly squeezed in Glorfindel's fist.

Glorfindel chuckled. “Not that – not yet, _roch neth_. Your presents first, and then mayhap your pleasure, if Gîl is still asleep...”

“Oh blessed Elbereth, please keep him asleep for another hour!” Legolas exclaimed so plaintively that Glorfindel laughed and then regretfully let go of the youth.

He left the bed and took the large wooden box from where he had hidden it in the closet, secured with a lock to keep his Prince from accidentally spoiling his surprise. Now, though, Glorfindel placed it on the bed in front of Legolas and unlocked it, nodding at the quietly excited youth to open it, while he bent once more and took another long, silk-wrapped parcel from where he had hidden it beneath the bed yesterday. This, he thought, would please his Prince like nothing else, and despite Haldir's admonition that this was a weapon Legolas might never completely master, it would give Legolas great pleasure and confidence – and that was all that Glorfindel truly wanted.

  
\-----------  
_fëar_ \- souls  
_hröar_ \- bodies  
_roch neth_ \- colt  
_pen villen_ \- beloved  
\-----------

 

**64**

Legolas' eyes were alight with pleasure when he opened the box, and Glorfindel smiled, touched by the genuine awe in the youth's face, for he knew it was not caused so much by the nature of the gifts he had chosen, but by the simple fact that he had been thoughtful enough to do such a thing for Legolas. He did not think anyone had ever done something solely to make the youth happy, and it saddened him, for it took nothing more than this little gesture to make the usually so reticent youth open to him like a flower towards the sun.

How was it possible that no one had seen the beauty of his Prince's compassionate heart? They had taunted him for the gentleness of his soul and called it weakness, and Legolas had believed it, yet Glorfindel could see to the depth of his heart, and loved him the more for what he found there. Legolas had known pain, and because of this, he would not willingly cause another the same. It was a gentler nobility than that of many others Glorfindel had known and loved in his long life – save maybe for one, who still was first and foremost in his mind even now when he thought of what ennobled a man.

Yes, such gentleness was not weakness, Glorfindel thought, and in a prince who had been raised with love, a prince who did not continually doubt himself, it would have been a much praised trait.

“Do you like it?” he asked when he saw how Legolas reverently stroked the leather-bound spine of the book that had been placed on top. “No children's tales this time...”

“Lays instead – I love it, my Lord! Thank you!” Legolas gifted him with a smile of overwhelmed happiness, so that Glorfindel laughed and pressed a kiss to his brow.

“Continue then, there is more to come!”

Next, Legolas uncovered a belt of linked discs of gold, inlaid with mother of pearl. “That is beautiful!” he exclaimed, marveling at the way the light was reflected by the polished surface, gleaming in all the colors of the rainbow when he tilted it.

“There is more that belongs with it... I hope you will like it,” Glorfindel said in unwonted insecurity. “'Tis in the style of the Teleri, and mayhap you will think it but ancient affectation, as indeed an age has passed since last I saw it worn, yet I think it will look beautiful on you. And as it has greater similarity than our Noldorin robes to the styles the Sindar favor, and as this day is to honor you, I thought that you might prefer a more familiar garb, ancient though the style may be...”

“How fine this is!” Legolas said in wonder and lifted a shirt of white cambric from the box, which had been embroidered all over with silver thread, showing flowers and leaves and the beech trees of his native forest. Beneath it rested a tunic, and when he lifted that out of the box as well, he made a soft sound of surprise at the weight. Although it was made from silver silk, it had been likewise heavily embroidered, and not with thread or gems but with a multitude of small pearls, which gleamed in the light almost like small drops of fresh water. The tunic itself, he now saw, was indeed cut in an ancient style, more similar to the garb worn at his father's court, though longer. The belt would be needed for such a garment, he thought, imagining how this would look on him – certainly the tunic would reach past his knees, yet it was slitted at the sides to allow for comfort of movement. To complete the outfit, there were breeches of white doeskin embroidered with more silver thread and pearls which showed pictures of a hunt beneath beech leaves.

“I... My Lord!” Legolas whispered, overwhelmed. “I have never seen anything so fine!”

“You would do me great honor if you wore it today,” Glorfindel said softly, so that Legolas laughed in purest joy and threw his arms around his Lord's neck, pressing himself close in helpless gratitude.

“Thank you,” he said breathlessly, then moaned almost as if in surprise when his still-hard length rubbed against the hard planes of Glorfindel's stomach.

“Ah, not yet, beloved.” Glorfindel laughed at Legolas' sigh and pushed him gently back. “In any case, there is more yet – we are not finished with the presents, even though I fear there are no more pearls to come. If Celeborn seems wroth with me today, 'tis because I spirited away all the pearl and nacre the coffers of his private tailors had to offer, and forced them to sew your garments instead of seeing to their lord's fitting. And yet, when he sees you in this, even Celeborn will have to agree that it was worth whatever inconvenience I caused him...”

Legolas reverently stroked the pale silk again, marveling at the slightly rough texture that was so in contrast to the way it gleamed in the sun, changing from steel-blue to icy white to the silver sheen of Ithil. It was the garb of a prince, nay, more than that, this was far finer than anything he had ever seen his brothers wear. And it came from Glorfindel, who had chosen it to please him, who had put so much thought into this, solely to see him happy...

"My Lord, _I_ will be honored to accompany you in this," he said and took Glorfindel's hand, kissing it reverently. His shaft still ached with need, swollen and dark with the blood that could not escape, and though even now a part of him wished that his Lord would just push the clothes out of the way and take him right then and there, another part of him indeed found enjoyment in the thought of forcing his body to obey his Lord's wishes.

Glorfindel kissed him then, tenderly, lovingly, the kind of kiss that made Legolas' heart ache from the strength of emotion that flooded it, and then afterwards, there was more for him to lift from the box, smaller things, trinkets and tools – small pieces of jewelery, inconsequential things which Legolas had never truly realized he had missed. This pleased him almost more than the rich garments he had been given, for only now did he see what he had missed, and his eyes filled with helpless love at what his Lord was doing. He had had no need of such things when he had been little more than a possession, when he had owned nothing and the clothes he wore, even the food he had eaten were not his own but simply an indulgence of a Lord who could take all away at a whim if he so pleased.

Legolas touched a small beech leaf cut from a semi-precious stone, on its back a needle to hold a cloak closed, beautiful to look at but not too precious to be worn whenever he pleased. The small, simple tools of everyday life, things that were his own and which he could use or discard as he saw fit... This too showed his Lord's thoughtfulness and the truth of his love, and Legolas closed his fingers around the leaf, smiling as he tried to find words for how much this meant to him.

“One last thing, Legolas _nín_,” Glorfindel said softly and now took up the silk-wrapped parcel he had so far kept on the bed next to him. Legolas' eyes widened as he accepted it, and he exhaled in shock when the silk slipped away and revealed the last – and grandest – gift to his eyes.

A sword.

A sword, and even to his own inexperienced eyes it was at once apparent that this was a weapon forged by a true master. The steel gleamed blue in the light when he reverently drew the blade from its sheath, and when he turned it, he saw that there were words etched into the steel.

“Thárist I am; I cut through my foes like grass,” Legolas read, awed, then turned the blade again to speechlessly study the intricate design of leaves interwoven with small flowers - celandine, Legolas realized, and felt his cheeks flush with pleasure. The guard was embellished with more beech leaves, and the pommel crowned with another stylized golden celandine, the insignia of his Lord's noble house; yet apart from that, the sword was plain, the blade slim and much lighter than Glorfindel's own, Valinor-forged blade. Indeed the weight was much similar to the old sword he had been given ere they left for Lórien, and Legolas smiled when he realized that despite the obvious costliness of material and embellishment, this blade was meant to be borne into battle and not to dinners of state. It was too plain to be a mere symbol; no, this was a sword that had been forged with only the thought of defending its bearer's life in mind, and the tasteful decoration did not distract from that task. There were no gleaming jewels that would give away its owner's position in the dark, and Legolas was glad for it, for this was the weapon of a warrior, not a courtier - this was the weapon of the person Legolas wanted to become.

"Forged by a true master, one of the few yet remaining on these shores - I pray that in times of need, it will prove a true friend and servant to you. No greater joy could I imagine than if this gift were to spare you the loss of even a single drop of blood to our enemies,” Glorfindel said softly and covered Legolas' hands with his own.

"I have no words with which to thank you, Lord," Legolas breathed, and Glorfindel gently shook his head.

"None are needed. Truly, nothing would give me greater joy than if this weapon were to protect you from harm. 'Tis the only thing I wish for."

"Then I will learn how to protect myself, and learn it well, Lord... Well enough to not bring you shame."

"You could never bring me shame," Glorfindel said, gentleness in his voice. "I do not expect you to try to become myself. Learn how to wield this blade - learn how to wield knife and bow as well – and I shall be well pleased. Further than that, you will discover for yourself what suits and what pleases you, and in time you will find the path you shall walk in life. I will be there to provide guidance and support, that I swear to you, but I shall never force you to do something that does not please you, nor will I dissuade you from the path you will eventually find, whatever it may be."

"My Lord, I know not what to say, for I cannot yet see such a path before me, but with your guidance, I swear I will do the best that is possible for me," Legolas whispered, looking down at where their intertwined hands rested on the gleaming blade.

"You shall have that guidance, for as long as it pleases you - for you know that it pleases me well to guide and protect," Glorfindel murmured, his voice growing throaty as his mood changed back to playfulness. He took the sword from Legolas' grip and put it carefully down where it would do no harm, then pulled the unresisting youth into his arms so that Legolas' naked back rested against his chest.

"One last present then, I think? Before Gîl wakes?"

"Oh yes, _please_, my Lord!" Legolas sighed with such yearning that Glorfindel laughed.

"You _do_ need it now, do you not? Very well then..." With a tender kiss to the flushed tip of Legolas' ear, he ran his fingers down the thighs that eagerly spread for him, laughing in true amusement at the youth's willingness.

“I have not made you wait too long, have I? I did promise not to tease you on this day... But you will see that it is much sweeter for having waited a while,” he murmured, lightly gripping the straining shaft, his other hand curving around the youth's bound testes while Legolas' moaned and tried to move into his touch.

"Hush... No more teasing," Glorfindel said in reassurance and at last loosened the leather straps that had so tightly confined the youth's genitals. "Is this better then?" he asked and chuckled against Legolas' ear at the moan that was his sole answer, then wrapped his hands around the straining erection, stroking him slowly and watching himself doing so over the youth's shoulder.

"Open your eyes, Legolas," he then commanded. "Watch... just keep watching. That is all I want you to do. And you may come whenever you want..."

Legolas moaned again, trembling lightly when he obeyed and watched his Lord give him pleasure. His hands rested on the strong thighs that were splayed alongside his own, and though there was nothing that held him but his Lord's order to watch, he felt bound by it more tightly than by rope or chain. As always, his Lord's touch, his Lord's embrace rendered him completely helpless, and so he watched how the skilled, strong fingers expertly stroked him to climax, feeling secure in his Lord's arms, feeling himself completely owned.

Even at the end he kept watching, though his eyes were half-closed and his head rested against his Lord's shoulder, obedient to the last; and to see his own seed spatter all over his belly, dripping over Glorfindel's fingers, heightened his arousal to such a height that he gasped his Lord's name almost in fear – dreading, hoping that it would never end.

Yet end it did, and when Legolas had calmed at last, he became aware of his Lord's own arousal, hard and hot against his back. He sighed in languid pleasure then, reaching for the hand that was covered in his own essence and slowly proceeded to lap up the salty fluid, well aware of what an effect that had on his Lord.

“Oh, Valar... there is little time left, _roch neth_, Gîl might wake any moment,” Glorfindel groaned, and Legolas smiled, turning in his arms.

“Then my mouth would please you mayhap?” he breathed into Glorfindel's ear, answered by a helpless sound of desire when he freed the large erection and lowered his head, almost smug at the knowledge that he could please his Lord just as well as his Lord could please him.

\------------------------  
Legolas nín – my Legolas  
roch neth - colt  
Thárist – Grass-cleaver [ thâr – grass, rist – cleaver (as in the swords Orcrist and Angrist)]  
\------------------------

 

**65**

Glorfindel smiled as he watched Legolas fasten the belt around his waist, leaning against the door to enjoy the view in open admiration. As he had thought, the style of the Teleri suited Legolas well, and the long, heavily embroidered garments gave him a formal air despite his youth.

Legolas turned at last to face him, a light flush coloring his cheeks when he found himself so observed. "What do you think of your gifts now, my Lord?" he asked, his mouth curving into a smile so sweet that Glorfindel had to keep himself from drawing him close and kissing him breathless.

"You look so very, very fine. Fit only for kings and princes," he said, his voice a little husky from the desire he could not quite hide.

Legolas smiled, all trust and gentleness when he stepped closer and took his Lord's hand. "No, my Lord. Fit only for you," he said softly, reverently raising the hand to his lips to kiss it in both supplication and love.

"Sweet Legolas..." Glorfindel found himself speechless for once, overcome by emotion when he thought of knowing the beautiful youth's heart bound to his and his alone until the end of all things. "I shall cherish you always," he whispered, then quickly turned away, taking up a sheaf of flowers he had earlier gathered with Gîl, lest in his maudlin mood he gave away the day's greatest secret.

"Let me weave these flowers into your hair, then we will be done, and you will outshine even the radiance of Undómiel this eve." Legolas eagerly acquiesced to him, relaxing in obvious enjoyment of the affection and attention bestowed onto him when Glorfindel wove the fragile blossoms into the pale silk of his hair. _Elanor_ Glorfindel and Gîl had gathered in abundance, _elanor_ with its flowers of silver and gold growing from the same stem, and he wove both into his prince's hair, marveling at what a difference the rich clothes made. It gave Legolas a touch of graveness, set off by the sweet eagerness to please, and added a layer of unwonted confidence which Glorfindel found surprisingly pleasing to behold in his prince.

“You have never looked more beautiful. A prince of your people in truth,” Glorfindel said quietly, moved by emotion when he thought of just how much Legolas had lost by his father's neglect. Gently, he touched one of the royal braids which framed the beloved face, noting the slight hint of insecurity in Legolas' eyes, although there was no protest at these signs of rank and lineage Glorfindel had asked him to wear.

“I know these do not please you, and I am sorry that I must ask it of you on this of all days. I would not have your joy diminished in any way, yet for now, at least, these are needed...”

“For political reasons.” Legolas nodded in quiet understanding. “I will wear them gladly, because it is you who asks me to, my Lord. I need no other reason.”

Glorfindel kept quiet then, even though he realized that the thought that had once stood behind it, the plotting he had indulged in with Elrond that would see his son in line for the throne of Greenwood to spite Thranduil, had long since lost all importance for him. His heart had changed and with it the reason to have Legolas wear the Sindarin braids of royalty, so that now he desired little but joy and safety for his family. It was not that he was hesitant to bind himself to an outcast without name, but more that – now that he was beginning to see the inherent nobility of the youth that had been buried beneath his fears and doubts for so long – he could not help but desire for him to be given the recognition he deserved. There was much in Legolas which Thranduil and the Greenwood would one day rue to have lost, he thought, no matter if it took a hundred years or a thousand. He would not let Legolas give up the inheritance that was rightfully his, even though for now there was little chance that Thranduil would accept him back.

“I have something for you as well, my Lord.” Legolas turned and took up a wreath of golden celandine which had been hidden beneath a silken scarf, then placed it tenderly on Glorfindel's gleaming hair.

“I gathered them while you were out with Gîl,” he admitted, reverentially smoothing back a wayward curl that had escaped the elaborate braids of the ancient style of Glorfindel's house. “Does this please you, my Lord? I still do not know how the Noldor view such things...”

“The Noldor like such things just fine,” Glorfindel said gently and took hold of Legolas' hand to press a kiss to his fingers. "Thank you. This is very thoughtful."

Legolas looked up at his Lord who was so much more than he had ever hoped for, whose eyes still shone with the light of Aman, whose form was tall and strong and whose sword arm had never known defeat...

He was truly a hero of a long-gone age, and it still seemed impossible to Legolas that such a hero could love him, could want him – not just in his bed but also by his side at a banquet. He thought of the oath he had sworn, to know no Lord but Glorfindel for all of his life, and he wanted to fall to his knees again to prove his devotion, to swear himself his Lord's once more, for he could think of no other way to express his love and adoration.

He sank to his knees in truth then, clutching his Lord's hand, pressing a kiss to it in fervent supplication. "My Lord," he breathed, cheeks flushing with color when a thought came to him all of a sudden, a memory that made the blood rush through his veins with sudden, surprising desire. "This morning you told me that if there was aught else I desired of you as a gift, I should ask and you would consider it. There is indeed a boon I would ask of you... I want to wear your knots again, my Lord.”

Legolas heard his Lord take a sudden, deep breath, as if he were as surprised as Legolas about this request – and although but a few months ago Legolas would have sworn that he would _never_ beg for that particular humiliation, as his Lord had once promised he would, he now knew that Glorfindel had been right. He was frightened by his own boldness, afraid what his Lord's reaction might be – and yet, even if he were commanded to wear Glorfindel's knots to his begetting day feast, he knew that he would do it, if only to please his Lord.

“You told me that one day, I would beg you for that honor, and I am begging you for it now. To wear them tonight, to know myself fully yours, it would be a great honor indeed. I am sorry I did not understand then--"

"No," Glorfindel said quickly and rested a finger against Legolas' lips. "No, not that, never be sorry for that. I lied to you then; 'twas no honor but a thing I did to shame you. Never feel regret – _I_ am the one who regrets! When I wove my knots into a lover's hair, it was always a sign of honor, but in what I did to you I turned it into a mark of shame.

“Tonight,” Glorfindel promised then, his voice darkening as he twined a lock of pale gold around his finger. “Tonight – or mayhap tomorrow, if we are too tired. But yes – my knots in my bed, the royal braids during the day. I would like that very much, _roch neth_... Oh, that is _exactly_ how it should be for you. It will remind you of how you owe me your service, your obedience...”

“I owe you everything, my Lord!” Legolas breathed. “Whatever you think to demand, I will always obey!”

“Sweet Legolas... Ah, the things you make me want to do to you...”

“Anything!” Legolas swore again, pressing another yearning kiss to his Lord's hand.

“Lovely!” Glorfindel murmured throatily, taking Legolas' chin into his hand to tilt the youth's head up, looking down into the gentle eyes that were now dark and soft with longing, as if there were truly no thought left in Legolas but the desire to please.

“Just as it should be,” he repeated darkly, a faint threat in his voice that made Legolas tremble slightly from fear and excitement both. “You will have a chance to prove the truth of your words to me before we leave, _roch neth_. I will want all of you, all you have to give; unquestioning obedience, surrender to the bottom of your soul...”

Legolas closed his eyes with a soft, helpless moan and Glorfindel laughed at his reaction. “As sweetly as you beg for it, you would tempt even one of the Valar. Up with you, _roch neth_. Tempting you may be, but I have no time for this now. And you do _not_ want to incur my wrath by ruining your fine clothes...”

“I am sorry, my Lord!” Legolas breathed, mortified to discover that he was indeed so hard that he felt he would come at a single touch – and yet he found that a part of him could not help but relish the thought of how attuned his body was to his Lord's presence.

“Lovely,” Glorfindel murmured again and drew him up and against him, delighting in the way Legolas eagerly surrendered to his kiss. It took all of his control not to give in to his desire right then and there, to use Legolas the way he so obviously needed to be used – but there would be time for that later, more than enough time. Ages of passion and love and that sweet, intoxicating surrender, if Legolas would agree. And why should he not? Already he had sworn himself to him as a warrior would to his liege lord; no, the youth could have no reason to shy away from taking it one step further... And yet, for the first time in many, many years, Glorfindel felt strangely unsettled. Legolas had no reason to reject his suit. Legolas had already given him a child; had given him his love as well... And yet the simple possibility of being denied this one thing that he had thought to never find made him more afraid than he had ever been even on the eve of great battles.

At last, when the time had arrived to leave for the royal _talan_, Legolas gave him a searching look, unsettled by his Lord's strange mood, yet Glorfindel did not share his thoughts with him. He kissed Legolas before they entered the large flet, feeling the youth calm at his touch, as he always did, and when they went inside he held Legolas' hand in his in a blatant show of both possession and affection.

The _talan_ was well-filled with people already when they entered, and brightly lit so that the festive garments of the attendants glittered and gleamed like a hoard of gems. Glorfindel's guards wore their dress uniforms, and even Haldir - though still without his red cloak – wore fine gray velvet instead of wool.

Legolas flushed a little to find himself the center of attention of so many, but the heavy, costly garments he wore worked now almost like a shield. For once, he did not feel out of place, not when he was wearing his Lord's thoughtful gift. The garments were beautiful beyond belief, and he thought that he had never seen one of his brothers wear something so fine - certainly, today no one could look at him and find him lacking. And he had Glorfindel by his side, who wore his best clothes as well and looked stunning in a robe of dark green velvet embroidered with golden flowers, the insignia of his House, his noble head crowned with the celandine Legolas himself had gathered and bound.

Today, at least, no one could look at him and feel pity or derision, Legolas felt certain of that, and he enjoyed the feeling of security that gave him. Today, he would make his Lord proud and prove him right in bringing him here. He still felt shame when he remembered the immaturity he had shown when last Glorfindel had taken him to a feast in Imladris - but that seemed almost a lifetime ago now, and Legolas swore to himself that he would embarrass neither himself nor his Lord so ever again.

Arwen was the first who met them, Gîlríon by her site, for she had taken care of him for a while so that Glorfindel and Legolas could prepare for the banquet in peace. Now Legolas swung Gîl up into his arms, pressing a kiss to his cheek that already seemed to be smeared with the traces of some confection, a rush of pride filling his heart at the thought that still seemed so strange after all this time – that this was his child, his son, so bright, so confident and ever-curious.

“Have you been good, Gîl? You have not caused the Lady Arwen too much work, have you?” he asked, and Gîl quickly shook his head.

“We played with my horses!” he declared, and Legolas laughed.

“Of course you did,” he said in amusement and then surrendered Gil to Glorfindel's arms.

“He is a delight,” Arwen said warmly. “I will gladly watch over him for you whenever you decide you need a respite. But come now, my grandparents are waiting, and it will not do to antagonize my grandsire further, not when it is already the talk of the city how you stole the services of his personal seamstresses away from him – to very good effect though, as we can all now see.”

“Indeed.” Legolas turned around quickly at Celeborn's warm, amused voice. “But I am much more inclined to forgive your Lord now that I can see for which reason he did this. Ahh, a true scion of the Teleri indeed... You look as if freshly sprung from a historical tapestry, and I find I cannot bear your Lord any ill will – you look much finer in this than I would have. Indeed, cousin, you would have been the envy of the court in Doriath during the time your grandsire and I dwelt there. Come now, there is food and drink, and you must allow us to present our gifts to you.”

Legolas followed obediently, Glorfindel's arm curving around his shoulders, reassuring and warm. He was pleased and embarrassed by all the attention bestowed on him – after all, no one had ever done something like this for him before, and it still seemed strange that so many people had come to acknowledge the day of his begetting. It felt somewhat treacherous to enjoy the gifts Glorfindel had given him so much, for while it was true that he had never seen his brothers or even his father wear anything so fine, how could he admit such a thing, when he knew that it would be taken as but an admission of his father's lack of sophistication?

But for now, many of those who had been invited came to offer their well-wishes and to present him with gifts, so that he felt grateful for the continuing presence of his Lord by his side, lending him the strength to bear all of the attention as he clasped hands and thanked people he did not even know for the gifts they had brought.

It felt strangely official, as if he did indeed have another function besides being Glorfindel's bed toy, which he knew was how most had regarded him in Imladris when Glorfindel had brought him to meals or the Hall of Fire. Yet there seemed to be no one here who bore him ill-will, and after a while he calmed and to his surprise, found that this was even a pleasurable experience, for it made him feel competent, and in truth it was much like the way he had dreamed he would one day be treated as a Prince of Greenwood.

The sheer amount of gifts he was being given surprised him, for even those advisors and nobles of Lórien whom he did not know had brought bottles of wine or cordials, jewelry or leather-bound tomes of lore or poetry, so that soon the small table next to him was piled with presents.

Glorfindel's guards were the next to approach, clad in their dark blue dress uniforms embroidered with Elrond's insignia, the silver star of Eärendil, and their faces alight with pleasure when they crowded around Legolas, clasping his hands and shoulders in true pleasure.

“We did not know what to get you; everything we could think of we were certain Glorfindel would have already presented you with,” Fairion explained. “But we hope that this will prove useful, and that the captain has not yet promised you one himself.”

Laindir gave Legolas a finely turned belt of dark leather, adorned by an etched scrollwork of small leaves. More importantly, there was a short, similarly adorned sheath that held a small dagger, and when Legolas carefully pulled it free, he saw that it was almost as masterfully made as the sword Glorfindel had given him, lacking any ostentatious embellishments as it was a tool to be used and no mere decoration.

“Oh, thank you!” he said breathlessly, his eyes alight with such joy that a few of the guards laughed in pleasure and Laindir clasped Legolas' shoulder with a grin. Another group of advisors arrived then, Ellonúr among then so that Legolas sobered, remembering all too well what his Lord's former companion thought of him and his position. Yet today, at least, there were no insults. Ellonúr was almost painfully formal as he offered his well-wishes, yet when his gaze fell onto Glorfindel who still carried Gîlríon in his arms, his mask seemed to slip for a moment, and his face became grave and still.

“I am glad you found the time to come,” Glorfindel offered and Ellonúr nodded, still gazing at the child in his arms with a strange expression before he finally turned and made way for others.

With a pang of apprehension, Legolas realized that it was Haldir who approached him now. He was flanked by his brothers, holding something wrapped in cloth, and for a moment Legolas worried that Haldir might have decided to pay him back for humiliating him in front of his friends in the saddler's workshop. What would he do if Haldir chose to present him with a whip or crop in front of everyone?

He swallowed and looked at Rúmil's kind face, Orophin's pleased smile. No, his brothers would never allow such a thing, he was certain of that. They shared neither their brother's humor nor his inclinations, and Rúmil had made himself more than clear on what he thought of Haldir's treatment of him.

With a deep breath for courage, he accepted gift and congratulations gracefully, holding his breath when he slowly drew the cloth back to reveal the brothers' gift. His eyes widened when he saw that it was neither whip nor flogger, no implement of pain or pleasure – instead, the brothers had gifted him a bow, and while this was improbably more welcome than a whip, it was still so surprising that he gave Haldir a questioning look, wondering if there was something else behind it.

“Do not look as if you are afraid to believe your good fortune,” Haldir chided smugly, as if he were pleased with Legolas' reaction. “I must admit that it was not my first idea, but my brothers found this more suitable, and I have to concur. A sword makes a mighty weapon, yet I think you will soon realize the advantages of bow and arrow, especially among the trees of a forest. Is it not so for your father's men as well?”

“The bows of the Galadhrim are rightly renowned,” Glorfindel said. “This one will be the envy of many at home. See how skillfully it is wrought, even though it is intended for one just beginning to learn the art of bow and arrow... It shall prove a faithful companion for many years, indeed you might use this bow even if you were to join a patrol under me, and I would commend you on the quality of your weapon. That does mean, of course, that I will have to find a tutor for you quicker than I had thought, once we are back home.”

“Thank you,” Legolas whispered, overwhelmed when he accepted arrows and quiver from Orophin and Rúmil's hands. “Truly, thank you so much... I am sure I am not good at all with a bow yet, but I will care well for your gift, and try to become better.”

“And hopefully, enjoy it,” Rúmil added with a smile. “I am not much good with it either, unlike Haldir who has unfairly been blessed with mastery of both sword and bow, yet even though I will never win a contest, I still enjoy using the bow. Every now and then, I even manage to bring down a hart, which I have to admit is far more pleasing to my stomach than a tournament victory would be.”

“I have sometimes managed to shoot a rabbit,” Legolas offered quietly, giving Haldir a cautious look to see if that would earn him his derision. “Although we more usually used slings – it was always a welcome addition to the rations we were provided with.”

“I am certain you will do well,” Celeborn said warmly, returning to their side now with Galadriel and Arwen next to him. Galadriel stepped closer to Legolas, gently taking his head into her hands as she kissed his brow.

“The Valar's blessings,” she said, her eyes filled with a radiance that made him think of golden light on verdant shoots, of starlight shimmering on the waves of the sea, awed and comforted at once by the light that seemed to envelop him.

“One day soon, you shall be in need of this,” she then said, her voice grave even though her eyes were warm, smiling in reassurance at his confusion. “Fairest of the princes of these hither shores... You have returned _estel_ to Glorfindel the beloved.”

Legolas felt Glorfindel stiffen at her words, a shiver running through his body as he wondered whether she was speaking in foresight, and what it might mean. How could he have returned _estel_ to Glorfindel? Certainly such a hero, beloved by his people, granted rebirth and a return by the Valar, would never lose _estel_?

Then he saw what she held in her arms and reached out to take it, his eyes widening at the weight. Some of the cloth slipped from his grasp and now he gasped at the splendor unfolding before his eyes – it was no tapestry as he might have thought from the weight, it was a cloak; a cloak of such indescribable beauty that it seemed to him far too fine to be touched even by princes or kings. Certainly such a garment could be worn by a Vala alone?

It was cloth-of-gold as bright as his Lord's golden hair, so thick and heavy he could barely hold it with both hands. And yet it had been embroidered so luxuriously that almost none of the gold was visible, as the entire cloak was covered with thousands of small leafs cut from emeralds that glistened and gleamed in the light.

“Like sunlight falling through a cover of leaves,” he whispered in awe, his fingers trembling as he stroked this priceless treasure, unable to believe what he saw.

Was it truly their plan to reinstate him as a Prince of Greenwood? This would be too much even if they were to crown him King... For he wanted no title, no crown, all he wanted was to be with Glorfindel, to be his and his alone, and he would gladly declare himself his slave once more if that meant that he would never have to see his father again.

  
\-----------  
_roch neth_ \- colt  
_talan_ \- flet  
_estel_ \- hope  
\-----------

  
Author's Notes  
===========

The _estel_ Galadriel mentions refers of course not to Aragorn, but rather to the two-fold concept of hope of the elves, which is explained by Tolkien in _Athrabeth Finrod Ah Andreth_:

> 'Have ye then no hope?' said Finrod.  
> 'What is hope?' she said. 'An expectation of good, which though uncertain has some foundation in what is known? Then we have none.'  
> 'That is one thing that Men call "hope",' said Finrod. '_Amdir_ we call it, "looking up". But there is another which is founded deeper. _Estel_ we call it, that is "trust". It is not defeated by the ways of the world, for it does not come from experience, but from our nature and first being. If we are indeed the _Eruhin_, the Children of the One, then He will not suffer Himself to be deprived of His own, not by any Enemy, not even by ourselves. This is the last foundation of _Estel_, which we keep even when we contemplate the End: of all His designs the issue must be for His Children's joy. _Amdir_ you have not, you say. Does no _Estel_ at all abide?' (MR 320)

  
Before someone points out that the making and/or wearing of wreaths of flowers is a 'girly' thing to do for Legolas, I would like to point out that it is Thranduil who wears “a crown of leaves upon his golden hair” (Hobbit 144). And how do the Noldor view such things? Who knows... Galadriel at least seems to like it enough to wear “a circlet of golden flowers [...] in her hair” when she bids the Fellowship farewell (Fellowship 489).

A description of what _elanor_ looks like can be found in Tolkien's letter 312:  
“Lit by that light, _niphredil_ would be simply a delicate kin of a snowdrop; and _elanor_ a pimpernel (perhaps a little enlarged) growing sun-golden flowers and star-silver ones on the same plant, and sometimes the two combined. “(Letters 402)

Carpenter, Humphrey. _The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien_. London: HarperCollins, 2006.  
Tolkien, J.R.R. _The Hobbit_. London: HarperCollins, 1999.  
\---. _Morgoth's Ring_. Ed. Christopher Tolkien. London: HarperCollins, 1994.  
\---. _The Fellowship of the Ring_. London: HarperCollins, 1999.

 

**66**

Speechless and completely overwhelmed, Legolas looked at the rulers of Lothlórien, and the Lady Arwen standing with them. He felt so inadequate, so far beneath this kingly gift that he had been given, and he knew not how he could possibly thank them for something that he was not even worthy of touching, much less wearing!

“Thank you!” he said, searching for words until at last he shook his head in confusion. “I know not what to say, this is... This is far too grand for me!”

“No, 'tis of equal beauty,” Glorfindel gently corrected, wrapping an arm around his waist to pull him close. “Yet it is indeed of amazing loveliness. I would take you to Tirion, present you to my parents wrapped in this cloak, and watch them marvel at this exotic prince of a far-away country who has followed me over the sea to the place of my birth...”

“I would follow you anywhere, Lord!” Legolas quickly swore, eyes wide at this improbable declaration. To be taken to see his Lord's parents... The thought was frightening, and yet, that his Lord would even contemplate such a thing, even though it might never come true, it made his heart beat hard and fast in his chest.

“I know you would. I would not have it any other way,” Glorfindel said and pressed another loving kiss to his brow. Celeborn took the cloak from Legolas' hands then and placed it onto the large table that already seemed to be overflowing with gifts. Awed whispers arose from the guests crowding around them once more, and Legolas knew that his own face was still hot and flushed from surprise and embarrassed, disbelieving joy. He could imagine neither how he deserved such a gift, nor what it might be for – yet he had sworn himself to his Lord, he reminded himself, and it was no longer his task to worry about such things. He would do whatever Glorfindel asked of him, no matter what, and if it meant returning to his father's halls one day, then he would obey and entrust himself to his Lord in that as well.

Arwen came then to clasp his hands and kiss his cheeks, alight with pleasure at his reaction to their gift, and Legolas felt humbled once more when he realized that they must have worked through the nights in order to present him with so glorious a garment – him, who had not even been worthy of a simple embrace by his father on his last begetting day at home!

Legolas smiled shyly at Arwen, overwhelmed by gratitude – not just for the gift but more so for her kindness. It was no simple pity he felt from her; instead, she made him feel as if she truly enjoyed his company, and that was wondrous enough. Legolas could not help but think of her brothers then; he knew all too well what their reaction would have been had Glorfindel invited them to celebrate the day of his begetting, and Legolas prayed to Elbereth that on their return to Imladris, Arwen would not be swayed by Elladan's low opinion of him.

It was overwhelming, and one of the happiest moments in his life, to simply stand here and know that he was surrounded by people who bore him no ill will – more than that, many of whom seemed to genuinely like him! For once the constant, secret fear that he might do or say something wrong was gone and he felt safe and at ease among these people, able to relax and allow himself to believe that he could be truly liked and accepted simply for who he was, instead of facing laughter and derision for who he was not.

There was one last test of his new-found confidence when belatedly, one of his brother's companions entered and curtly wished him a happy begetting day, a wish whose insincerity Legolas was well aware of. He could not remember his name, though he thought he recognized him from the group of young nobles his brother had always surrounded himself with at home. The advisor had brought no gift, yet that came as no surprise to Legolas, who would have been astonished had Galuron truly seen fit to spend even a small amount of his father's coffers on him. Even so, he was embarrassed by the attention bestowed upon him by someone who he knew disliked, if not outright loathed him.

No, there was only one reason why the advisor had come, and that too was politics, Legolas thought, like the braids that Glorfindel made him wear. It seemed that even for his brother, curiosity outweighed his loathing of Legolas; the advisor was here only to be able to tell Galuron – and Thranduil, mayhap – about what happened here, and not for any sort of support of Legolas.

And yet, what did it matter when for the first time in his life, he had the support of so many? Certainly not everyone in this room was a friend, yet there was Glorfindel, the Lady and Lord of the Golden Wood and Arwen, and of course Glorfindel's men. It had become difficult for him to believe that someone could truly show him kindness, and yet he knew that the friendship offered by them was genuine.

No, let his brother bear back tales to his father of how his treachery was rewarded with gold, fine clothes and jewelry; he did not care what they thought of him, not anymore. It had been almost two years since his father had exiled him, and there was no use in fearing what tales they told about him at home. That was the past; all that could matter to him now was the present, and the future.

And what did he care about the lies they spread in the Greenwood when at last he had found happiness at Glorfindel's side? It had been hard-won, and he still felt that his Lord's love was more than he deserved, but all the same he knew that without it he would surely perish. He took his Lord's hand then, and when Glorfindel turned to look at him, he gave him a smile. “This is wonderful,” he said softly. “I could not have imagined such a thing – thank you!”

“Just wait until the food is served – and I think there will be dancing afterward,” Glorfindel said, his eyes warm with love. “Reserve your judgment until I have made a fool of myself in the Silvan dances they favor here.”

When they at last went to take their seats, Glorfindel could see the emotions running across Legolas' face - thrill, surprise and embarrassment – when he found that he was given the place of honor at the head of the table. Yet Legolas bore himself well, and Glorfindel could not take his eyes off him, for here at last was the promise of all that was to come, plain for everyone to see – great kindness and empathy married to a compassionate heart, innocence of the soul combined with that heartbreaking lissome beauty of the wood-elves, and with it not the striving for power, but the earnest desire to please, to do good, and bring harm to none. Legolas, Glorfindel thought, might never be a leader of men, for the easy authority that came to Glorfindel was as strange to him as the broadsword, and yet he was blessed with a wealth of talents that would only have needed the love of family and friends to flower.

Now, at last, with the rich dress, and the confidence instilled by being surrounded by people he had come to know and like, the true nobility of his heart was revealed – at least to Glorfindel's partial gaze. Proud and possessive, he rested one hand on Legolas' arm and was immediately rewarded with an upturned face bearing a warm smile that made him want to kiss those soft lips until they were red and swollen from his ardor. He returned the smile and raised Legolas' hand for a more courtly kiss suitable to the High Table, unable to take his eyes from the youth's resplendent beauty, although a small part of his mind was wondering how Galuron's ambassador would take this display of gallant affection.

As treachery, without a doubt; but further proof of Galuron's claim that Legolas had turned his back on father and people alike to seek out the protection and wealth of a Noldorin Lord for his own gain.

Nothing could be further from the truth, and yet what was about to transpire would only give further credence to that rumor. This, Glorfindel could not change, as much as he wished otherwise. Winning the respect of Legolas' father was a battle that must wait for another day, if indeed it could ever be won. For now, all that mattered was giving Legolas the joy he so sorely deserved, no matter how it would be taken by those who hated him.

The feast began with a short speech, if speech it could even be called, and Glorfindel saw frowns among the gathered when Celeborn simply thanked them for coming and announced the first course served to them. With a certainty, they had expected the long-winded, oft-pompous speeches Noldorin banquets were infamous for – yet the true reason for the gathering would be obvious soon enough, Glorfindel thought to himself with a smile.

The food prepared was sumptuous, lavishly decorated and catered to a multitude of palates, from at first glance simple Silvan dishes that made masterful use of the herbs of the forest, to the more ostentatious creations of Noldorin origin which were the favorite of the Lady of Wood. To these, Glorfindel himself was partial, for while over the Ages the favorite dishes of his childhood had evolved into dishes no Noldorin lord from Tirion would recognize, especially as on these hither shores many vegetables and herbs could not be found, to Glorfindel they still brought the memory of a happy childhood, and of places and people sorely missed these long Ages.

In such a way, course followed course. There was a plethora of game yielded by the forest and prepared by the Lady's cooks, and dish after dish was served of of coney, doe, grouse and pheasant; another course of fishes caught only this morning in the Celebrant, and the first tender lambs the spring had yielded. And from course to course, Glorfindel could feel the confusion and baffled excitement of the crowd rising, waiting for the speeches or announcements to be expected at a banquet – and which Glorfindel had refused to give so far.

Yet the announcement would happen soon enough, though for once, Glorfindel would let his actions speak for him. There was only dessert waiting for them now, honeyed cakes of nuts and dried fruits as well as concoctions of cream and liquors, which Legolas as well had developed a liking for, Noldorin though such extravaganza might be deemed.

Before dessert though, a new wine was served, sweet and heady to go with the honeyed confections, and Glorfindel smiled when he saw Legolas marvel at the heavy goblet of cut crystal that was placed before them. He gave Glorfindel a questioning look, who nodded with a smile towards a small bottle that stood next to the goblet, and with an expression of perfect, still somewhat disbelieving happiness, Legolas poured for them.

Immediately a scent of honey filled the air, and with it the perfume of roses in full flower, so that Legolas smiled in delight at the liquid of pale rose that sparkled in the crystal goblet.

Carefully, he lifted the cup with both hands to present it to his Lord, and with a happiness so keen he felt it as a pain that threatened to rend his heart apart, Glorfindel covered Legolas' hands with his own, drinking from the rose-colored mead when they had lifted the cup to his lips. Legolas looked at him with breathless joy, his eyes full of love, and Glorfindel realized with satisfaction how the entire room had fallen silent. Yet still he could not tear his eyes from Legolas to observe the effects of his action, for what he saw on Legolas' face was far lovelier. He drank in the love, the happiness, the joyful trust when Legolas sipped from the crystal cup as well, noticing the tender shadow of the long lashes on pale skin, the fine, honey-colored hair with its own, unique tempting fragrance brushing against the inside of his wrist, and he knew then that what he did was right, that this obsession would never end, for Legolas' innocence was an innocence of the soul, not the body, and he would never fail to delight in feasting on it.

“Do you like it?” he asked tenderly, cupping that lovely face in one hand when Legolas nodded.

“It is white mead brewed with the petals of roses, gathered by the Lady and her maidens during the last full moon of summer. It is a special cordial, which they say is tasted only once during a lifetime.”

Legolas had eyes only for him, and Glorfindel knew that he had never even realized that the entire room had fallen silent and was now staring at the High Table in breathless anticipation or, in one case, disgusted outrage.

“'Tis a drink served at a betrothal feast,” he said intimately. “The to-be-wedded pair drinks from the same cup, and thus seals their promises to one another.” The smile he gave Legolas was very, very tender, and he did not wait for doubt or fear to replace the puzzlement on Legolas' face. Instead, he slid to the floor, kneeling humbly on the ground before the youth.

“My beautiful, beloved Legolas. I have seen many Ages of this world. Twice have I crossed the ocean: once on the ice, once on a ship of the Teleri. I have beheld many wonders. I have seen the Two Trees in all their splendor, the light of the Silmarilli, the first rising of the Sun and the Moon. I have danced at the court of Finwë in fair Tirion upon Túna; I have braved the heights of the Pelóri and looked down on Aman spread beneath me like the jewels of a king's hoard, and flowers sprang beneath my feet when first I stepped onto the soil of Mithrim under Fingolfin's banners of blue and silver. I have fought dragon and demon of fire; I have died and been reborn. Yet in all these Ages, not once has someone touched my heart as you do. No one has ever come close to your beauty, your nobility of spirit, your courage, your capacity to love, and to be loved in return. Every day that I have looked upon you, this knowledge has grown. I am yours, Legolas... I am yours, and I want to always be yours. I want to swear myself to you with a vow I shall never break, with the holiest vow there is, the vow that I feared I would never swear.

“I want to be yours, Legolas... Wedded to you before Eru himself, one until the end of Arda.” He hesitated, looking up into shocked, blue eyes, then asked the question – a simple thing in the end, and the only thing that truly mattered anymore: “Will you have me?”

 

**67**

Later, Legolas would be unable to recount the full details of the events of that evening; it had all swirled together in his mind, blending into a kaleidoscope of jewel-bright colors of joy, laughter, Glorfindel's smiling eyes, and the overwhelming love that filled his heart until he thought it would burst. He could not remember the full details of his answer, only knew that it had been _yes_, a thousand times yes breathed into Glorfindel's hair, against his skin, against his lips when he slipped from his own chair to throw himself into Glorfindel's waiting arms, his eyes bright with tears. He could not remember why he had wept either, only that the kisses had been salty from his tears, and that there had been nothing but Glorfindel at that moment, for all else had ceased to be of importance. Only later, when there was a throng of people surrounding them with congratulations and smiles, did he slowly realize what the proposal meant, and was speechless from the awareness.

Glorfindel had slid a slender ring of silver onto his finger while they were still half hidden by the banquet table, and Legolas marveled at the sight. It still seemed like a dream to him, for while he had guiltily fantasized of being acknowledged in such a way, to have it actually happen seemed stranger still than anything else that had happened thus far in his life. Then Glorfindel dropped another silver ring into his palm, and with trembling fingers Legolas moved it into place. He looked at their hands for a moment, wide-eyed with wonder to see themselves so connected, Glorfindel's intention to wed him plain for everyone to see.

“I will never bring dishonor to you, Lord!” he swore breathlessly, then buried his face against Glorfindel's neck when his Lord wrapped his arms around him once more.

Glorfindel stayed by his side the entire evening, and Legolas knew that he had never been happier. There were more congratulations, this time for the both of them, and Legolas flushed with helpless pleasure when he realized that he was standing by Glorfindel's side like an equal, clasping the hands of all those who came to wish him joy. This was what Glorfindel's proposal meant; his Lord proclaimed him to be his equal in all things – save for the bedroom, Legolas thought, and blushed when he realized that he did not _want_ things to change there.

The evening was as perfect as anything Legolas could have imagined. He did not even feel uncomfortable any longer at being the center of attention, for with Glorfindel's declaration, his Lord had taken that burden from him. It was the Elda now about whom the diplomats and advisors thronged, vying to clasp his hand and deliver well-wishes, and though Legolas stood next to his Lord, and indeed was the recipient of the same congratulations, he felt secure in the knowledge that nothing was expected of him but simple words of thanks, and that his Lord would deal with anything else.

There was only one moment that had the potential to break through the nearly-tangible happiness that surrounded Legolas. When Arwen came to envelop Glorfindel in her arms and press a kiss to his cheeks, she brought Gîlríon with her, who had sat with her during the meal – so that his Lord could propose to him in peace, Legolas realized and flushed once more with overwhelmed joy. 

Gîl wrapped his arms around Glorfindel's neck when his _atto_ lifted him, beaming with exuberant happiness even though Legolas was certain that he could not yet understand what had happened. “What are you doing, _atto_? Why are all the people standing here?”

Glorfindel smiled and pressed a kiss to his head. “They are offering their congratulations, because your _ada_ and I will be wed soon.”

“Wed?” Gîl frowned, and Legolas bit his lip in worry, wondering whether Gîl already had any conception of what a wedding meant, and how strange a position Legolas had held so far. He had always lived with the fear that one day, Gîlríon would be told just how he had been conceived, and just how far his _adar_ had allowed himself to be humiliated and degraded. As much as Legolas feared that day, he knew that it would come – but certainly not yet? Certainly Gîl was still far too young to truly understand what had taken place here, and what it meant?

“Like the Lord and Lady are? But... you are not?”

“No, we are not, not yet,” Glorfindel said calmly, and though Legolas could not bear to look at any of the gathered advisors for the shame of having this humiliating topic talked about openly, he still could not help but feel deep gratitude and love for his Lord, who took this difficult task on himself without a second's doubt.

“At a wedding, both families should be there – but your _ada_'s family does not like me. So I have not wed your _ada_ yet, because I hoped I could make them like me after all. Yet you have met your uncle, and I do not think his opinion of me will change. We shall not wait for them anymore, and instead, we will have a wonderful feast without them next year.” 

Glorfindel smiled at Legolas, who waited with bated breath for someone to make a disparaging comment – but none came, and Legolas allowed himself to relax a little, grateful that his brother's ambassador did not seem to be nearby at this moment. After all, what Glorfindel had told Gîl was not exactly the truth. It might not be an outright lie, but there were so many omissions in this explanation that Legolas did not want to know what Galuron's reaction would be.

Gîl, on the other hand, seemed to be content with the explanation, and Legolas was grateful that he had been given more time until that day he so dreaded would come. And perhaps it would not be as terrible as he feared, to have his son know of his shame... If he dared to believe his Lord – and how could he not? – they would be wedded by then, and his Lord had sworn that no one would be allowed to humiliate him any more. All he had to do was to trust in Glorfindel to keep his promises, and that seemed to become easier every day.

There was dancing later, as Glorfindel had promised, after Arwen and her maidens had taken Gîlríon off with them once more. The music started when Legolas stood well-ensconced among Glorfindel's men, grimacing in disgust at his first taste of the ale the guards shared. They laughed at his expression, though it was good-natured laughter, and Laindir slung an arm around his shoulder and assured him that it was no surprise at all that this was not to his liking, not after the sweet mead Glorfindel had plied him with.

The music broke up their little group, and Fairion took Legolas' hands to pull him towards the space in front of the musicians that was now slowly filling. "They like their Silvan dances here... None of that stuffy, courtly dancing. Do you know this one?"

Legolas smiled in relief when he saw the people gathering into a large circle and nodded. There had been dancing lessons in his childhood as well, and though those did indeed encompass the slower and more courtly dances Fairion was obviously not very fond of, they had also spent time on the faster Silvan dances. Legolas remembered the lessons well - they had not been so bad, indeed he had enjoyed them, for that had been before he had lost the friendship of the one person who had seemed to like him.

He took a deep breath, resolved not to think about the past now, not when his Lord had taken such care to give him a future he still would not dare to believe in – if it were not for the very tangible proof on his finger. "Do _you_ know your Silvan dances then?" he asked and laughed at Fairion's smug expression.

"I have had _very_ good teachers - do you want to find out?"

Legolas made a sound of surprise when arms wrapped around his waist all of a sudden from behind. "Has no one ever told you that it is very bad manners to steal the betrothed of your captain away, guard?"

When Legolas turned in Glorfindel's arms, he was rewarded with a brilliant smile and a chaste kiss to his brow. "Would you like to dance? I have heard you tell him that you know these dances, but I will have to warn you that my expertise lies with the _stuffy, courtly dances_ the younger members of my guard so revile.“

"But these are not difficult, my Lord! I am certain that you are much better at it than you claim."

"Let us find out then." With a firm grip around Legolas' waist, as if he were afraid that the youth might balk after all, Glorfindel pulled him right into the throng where they were immediately awarded a place in the circle. Fairion and Laindir joined them there as well, as well as a few others of Glorfindel's men, who soon had their arms wrapped around the waist of a maiden, or a few of the equally willing Silvan guards. The music was loud and lively, the tune – just as the dance – a well-loved favorite, and soon he found himself turning and twirling and jumping at Glorfindel's side, breathless with joy. They switched partners many times in the course of the song, dancing a few steps with whomever they found themselves stopping in front of, until at last Legolas found himself in Glorfindel's arms once more when the circle had finished turning. He laughed in delight, certain that he had never enjoyed himself as much as he had this evening, and then quickly took a step to the side, neatly eluding Haldir who now found himself standing in front of Fairion, with Laindir glowering at him.

"If you want a dance with me, you could just ask, Haldir!" Legolas pointed out, but happily leaned back into Glorfindel's arms, breathless and glad for a moment's rest.

"Do you want something to drink? More of the mead?" Glorfindel asked, and Legolas nodded eagerly.

“Yes, please, my Lord.”

He watched Glorfindel walk towards a table with refreshments, wanting to sigh at the splendor of him, aglow with pride that this noble lord was to be _his_ – and then once more arms wrapped around him from behind.

“Truly, Haldir, you could just ask for a dance – I would say yes, you know.” Legolas shook his head with a sigh, though he was still smiling. For once, he did not mind dealing with Haldir, although he suspected that most of his courage came from the warm glow of the mead in his belly. Still, today he felt as if he could indeed stand up to Haldir, and whether that had its foundation in the liquour, or in the knowledge that Haldir could do nothing to him on this of all days, did not matter to him.

“Mmh... who says I want a dance?”

Legolas suppressed a shiver at the intimate sensation of Haldir's breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of his throat.

“You would be more foolish than even I would think, to want more from Lord Glorfindel's betrothed at his own betrothal feast...” 

Haldir laughed softly. “Maybe I just want to offer more _personal_ congratulations – I am your personal guard, after all.”

“I think you only want to see if you can make me uncomfortable. But you will not succeed.”

“No?” There was a teasing light in Haldir's eyes when let go of Legolas, only to force him to turn around. “Not even if I want to offer my congratulations with a kiss?” He leaned closer, and Legolas turned his head just in time so that Haldir's lips brushed his cheek instead of his mouth.

“Truly, Haldir, do you _want_ to annoy my Lord?”

Haldir shrugged. “Not particularly, but you really are too sweet to resist sometimes. He should understand – we value the same characteristics in a lover, after all.”

“And that should be reason enough to forgive you bullying him, at his betrothal feast of all places?” Glorfindel's voice was calm, yet there was a coldness to it that made Legolas tremble, and feel grateful that it was not directed at him.

“Are you not glad that I am finally seeing what attracts you to him?”

“He was not bullying me, truly,” Legolas interjected, resolved to not allow anyone to disturb this day. “I think he simply did not dare to ask me for a dance – but there is no need for you to be afraid, Haldir. I will gladly dance with you, but first I need a moment of rest.”

Glorfindel wrapped his arm around Legolas and pulled him close, not even trying to hide his possessiveness of the youth. “Come, let us go outside for a moment – it has grown hot in here, and a moment without being importuned will do us both good. And then, Haldir may have a dance – _if_ he asks politely.”

Haldir bowed, amused rather than cowed, and then wandered off, while Legolas gratefully followed his Lord outside. The cool, fresh air almost came like a shock, for while the large talan was airy and seemed to consist more of windows than walls, Legolas still felt hot and breathless from the lively dances. 

Glorfindel led him into a dark corner, and there they found a small, winding stair which led to a tiny platform – a small pavilion, Legolas realized when he brushed against what he thought was a wall, and found that it was a curtain when it moved beneath his touch. Inside, they found a settee with plump cushions, and when Glorfindel drew open one of the curtains, they could sit quietly together, Glorfindel still cradling the goblet of mead he had fetched, and before them, above them, spread the stars as multitudinous, as bright as they must have seemed to those who first awoke beneath their light.

Everything was quiet around them. As if from very far away, they could hear the music to which they had danced only a moment ago, and yet, here in this secluded little bower, it seemed as if they were all alone in the forest.

Legolas leaned his head against Glorfindel's shoulder, content to look at the stars while safe and warm in his Lord's embrace. This was more than he had ever dreamed of, this intimacy – sharing this quiet moment, knowing that right now, they were enough for each other, that neither of them could wish for more than this contentment found in simply being close, being with the other.

Silently, they emptied the goblet while the stars moved on their slow paths above them. They had no need for words, and when at last Glorfindel put the cup aside and rested his hand against Legolas' cheek, the youth moved into his touch with a sigh, soft lips parting when Glorfindel covered them with his own mouth.

Glorfindel smiled at him when at last they drew apart. He raised one hand and slowly drew his fingers down Legolas' cheek, over the full, rosy lips that now gleamed wetly in invitation, biting back a moan at the need that hit him all of a sudden with full force. 

“Eru be praised for creating something of such amazing loveliness... To think that I might have never known you! Ai, I cannot even bear to think about how empty my life would be.”

Again he moved forward to claim Legolas' mouth, though instead of the earlier gentleness, there was only ravenous hunger now, the need to taste the youth, to claim him to the deepest core of his soul, to feel him give all of himself without hesitation – and to give all of his heart in return.

Legolas whimpered when they broke the kiss, out of breath and just as overcome by need as Glorfindel.

“My Lord,” he breathed, “my Lord, oh _please_...”, and Glorfindel laughed, breathless, drunk on mead and the youth's beauty, and utterly in love.

“To hear you beg like that every day of my life – what greater prize could I possibly ask for?” His eyes had darkened with lust, and there was a threat in his voice that made Legolas tremble and look at him with sweet, helpless surrender.

“I want to be yours, only yours, always, to do with whatever you please,” Legolas whispered, and then moaned when Glorfindel raised his hand to press a kiss to the silver ring that now adorned one finger.

“Always,” Glorfindel answered, gazing at the youth with such dark desire that Legolas closed his eyes for a moment, too overcome by what Glorfindel made him feel.

“What do you want, Legolas?”

“You... Only you. I want to feel you, touch you... Oh, please, my Lord, let me!” Legolas breathed, biting back another moan when Glorfindel softly laughed at his pleading. Trembling with disbelief at his own audacity, he rested a hand on Glorfindel's thigh, swallowing when he felt the hard, powerful muscles – and then, before his courage left him, he moved his hand into Glorfindel's lap, moaning in unison with his Lord at the hardness he found there. First slowly, fingers shaking from insecurity, then faster with helpless need and impatience, he fumbled with his Lord's robes, parting the outer robe of heavy velvet, then beneath it an under robe of stiff, embroidered silk. He moaned in almost despair when his fingers encountered a long shirt of silk beneath, yet at last, when that was pushed out of the way as well with no thought to the garment's cost or the creases he might leave, his fingers encountered the breeches, ties stretching to contain his Lord's arousal.

Now it was Glorfindel who groaned when Legolas freed him at last and curled his fingers around him, looking at him with unveiled worship and hunger. His Lord's shaft was hot and hard in his hand, and the sheer size of him, the heat, the sensation of velvet-smooth skin over hard steel made him breathless with desire. His Lord was magnificent in all things, but in this, perhaps, most of all. Legolas knew he would never tire of looking at him. Touching him, pleasuring him in this way truly was a reward, and to feel him so heavy and hot in his hand aroused him more than being touched himself would have. 

Glorfindel had relaxed back into the plump cushions and was watching Legolas from heavy-lidded eyes, a small smile on his lips when the youth met his eyes only to flush with embarrassment. Legolas lowered his head, looking at his own pale fingers encircle the swollen, dark length. A bead of translucent liquid welled from the small slit at the top when he carefully smoothed the foreskin back, and he bit his lower lip, wanting to taste his Lord now, feel him fill his mouth...

“Oh no. Just your hands, _roch neth_. I want to watch you watching me.” 

Legolas swallowed at his Lord's command but obeyed despite his embarrassment, allowing his Lord to see his enjoyment, and what touching him like this did to him. He made a helpless sound of pleasure as he admired the heavy shaft in his hand, once more taking in his Lord's sheer size which even now made him feel disbelief at the thought of sheathing this inside. 

He felt breathless from his own daring and the overpowering need caused by feeling Glorfindel's desire for him. He felt his own submission to his Lord's will keenly, a thrill brought by nothing but knowing that he was serving him, would do whatever he asked, and that even though he had taken the initiative for once, in this too he was showing his surrender to his Lord's desire.

“I _want_ you, my Lord!” Legolas almost sobbed when the large, hard shaft swelled even further when he began to stroke him, his own length pressing against his tightly laced breeches, the ache so maddening, so delicious that he felt lightheaded.

“Not here, _roch neth_... Someone might come any moment. Please me well now, and you will be rewarded later...”

Legolas moaned again at the promise in Glorfindel's voice which was hoarse with lust, imagining just what his Lord might do to him – imagining himself on his knees before him, servicing him with his mouth, his Lord's knot in his hair to mark him as his possession for everyone to see...

He squeezed Glorfindel harder, his hand moving faster, breathlessly taking in the picture of his Lord slumped back against the cushions, utterly abandoned to the pleasure Legolas brought him, and then swooped down to close his lips around the crown of Glorfindel's erection just in time to swallow down all of his Lord's salty release.

“Good... Very, very good, _roch neth_. Perfect...” Glorfindel rested a hand on Legolas' head, breathlessly petting to show his approval while Legolas cleaned him and then set to straightening his clothes once more. When he was finished at last, Glorfindel drew him into his arms and kissed him again, smiling when he rubbed the heel of his hand over the bulge in the youth's leggings, making him moan into the kiss.

“So sweet. My dear beloved. My betrothed...” Glorfindel took another hungry kiss, leaving Legolas panting with pleasure and need. Glorfindel slowly massaged him through his leggings, but just when Legolas ceased caring about his fine garb, he pulled back and shook his head. “Not yet, _roch neth_. After the feast, when we are alone. If I am not too tired then...” 

Glorfindel laughed softly when Legolas moaned with frustrated need, yet as always the youth yielded so very sweetly to his Lord's every demand, and Glorfindel endeavored to reward him for that delightful trust with the pleasure he had earned, once they were safely ensconced in their bedroom with Gîl asleep.

Yet for now...

“Mmh, so hard for me. I love how you can never hide what I make you feel – how much you need me. But you will just have to cope this evening, Legolas _nín_, as we will have to return now before they start looking for us.”

“And I have promised Haldir a dance...” Legolas groaned, ruing his earlier teasing now, for certainly Haldir would know what state he was in, and what had brought it about.

“He will behave – or face my wrath. Teasing you I will allow, but making you feel uncomfortable at your own betrothal feast is something I will not stand for.”

Legolas looked pointedly down, to where his swollen length was still pressing uncomfortably against the confines of his leggings. At least his Lord had chosen well for him in this garb, for the ancient cut of the tunic as well as the stiff, heavily embroidered fabric hid the tell-tale signs of his arousal – but it would not stop him from yearning for his Lord's touch all through the evening.

“Ah, but that kind of discomfort is bound up with pleasure, is it not?” There was laughter in Glorfindel's eyes, and no compassion at all for the state he was in. “You will just have to cope, _roch neth_. Still, bear yourself well for the remainder of the evening, and there will be a reward for you afterwards.”

Legolas swallowed and nodded. “I will, Lord,” he promised earnestly, and Glorfindel's mien lightened even more.

“I know you will,” he murmured and rewarded the youth with another loving kiss. “Now come, it seems they have already sent someone to fetch us.”

Legolas frowned at the faint set of voices that slowly came closer, then sighed when he realized just who had come after them.

“Ai, not Haldir again! How does he always manage to show up in moments like this? He is like a wolf scenting wounded prey.”

“You did promise him that dance, _roch neth_,” Glorfindel said and chuckled at Legolas' expression. “You handled him well earlier, but if he gets too obtrusive, I will be there. I truly will not allow anyone to disturb this day. You mean too much to me, Legolas _nín_.”

Legolas flushed with pleasure, but there was not even time for a quick kiss now, or they would risk Haldir coming upon them in their little bower. Instead they stepped outside to meet him, Legolas smoothing his tunic surreptitiously to make certain that there was indeed no hint of his unabated arousal, for he knew what Haldir would have to say to that.

Glorfindel loosely rested an arm around his shoulder, keeping him close as they stepped down the small stair, and just as they had expected, there Haldir stood waiting for them – only he was not alone.

  
\------------------------  
_Legolas nín_ – my Legolas  
_roch neth_ \- colt  
\------------------------


	8. Chapter 68

Legolas swallowed when he saw that Ellonúr had accompanied Haldir. He remembered only too well how Ellonúr had treated him in Imladris – and how badly he himself had dealt with the situation then. But it was so hard to look at him and know that at one time, Ellonúr had been his Lord's lover, had known that wondrous body just as well as he did, especially as Legolas could not help but feel that Ellonúr was his better in absolutely every regard.

And yet Glorfindel had chosen to wed _him_, not Ellonúr... That knowledge should help, and it did, and yet Legolas could not help but feel jealousy when he looked at the slim warrior who had once held that which was now the most important thing in the world to Legolas – his Lord's heart.

“Haldir, Ellonúr... Did Celeborn send you to retrieve us? I swear that we did not plan to abscond from our own bethrothal feast; we merely wished for a few moments of privacy.” Glorfindel smiled in welcome, though he kept his arm on Legolas' shoulder to hold him close. “Will you share a glass of wine with us when we return? I fear that we have finished the mead we brought.”

Legolas felt a smile tug at his lips at the barrage of words, realizing that his Lord was neither drunk, nor was he trying to divert their attention – Glorfindel was simply happy, in a way that Legolas had never experienced him before, and wanted to share his joy with his friends. Legolas pressed himself closer in wordless love and resolved to prove worthy of his Lord by overcoming this unbecoming jealousy of his Lord's erstwhile lover.

Being jealous of Ellonúr meant doubting his Lord – and how could he do that? So he forced himself to smile at them, which truly was not so hard on this joyous day, and silently begged the Valar to not let Ellonúr pick on him on this of all days.

“Some wine, and then my dance, I hope?” Haldir asked, looking at Legolas with a raised brow as if he doubted the youth's ability to make good on his promise after all the mead he had been plied with.

“Of course; I would not break a promise.”

“And _I_ shall watch you closely, Haldir...” Glorfindel threatened so that Haldir laughed and raised his hands.

“Just a dance, I swear; I shall not ask for a lock of his fair hair, nor for a kiss.”

“I should hope not,” Ellonúr said dryly. “In any case, my congratulations on your betrothal, Glorfindel. I had not thought that I would ever see that day arrive... But I truly hope that you will find all you have ever hoped for.”

Legolas wondered at Ellonúr's tone. He seemed completely unaffected by his former lover's betrothal, and yet there was some emotion in his voice which Legolas could not place.

“Before we return and Haldir claims his dance, might I have a moment of your time? Alone,” Ellonúr added without looking at Legolas, who hoped that no one would see him pale at that ominous demand. There was truly only one reason why Ellonúr might want to talk to Glorfindel without his presence, and that would be to talk about _him_...

Glorfindel hesitated and turned to Legolas, who took his hand and gently pressed it, pretending to be braver than he actually was. “I shall go ahead with Haldir, if he will not mind,” Legolas reassured his Lord.

“Oh, I do not mind at all.” Haldir's self-satisfied smile seemed somewhat threatening to Legolas, but so far, Haldir had not been too terrible... “I shall behave; after all, I still want my dance.”

Glorfindel sighed at Haldir's promise, yet brushed Legolas' lips with a quick kiss before he and Ellonúr took a few steps up the winding stair until they were lost in the darkness beyond the beckoning torchlight.

“Could this not have waited until tomorrow?” Glorfindel asked softly once they had reached the abandoned pavilion he and Legolas had found earlier. “What is it that you want to tell me? We really cannot in good conscience stay away from a celebration in our honor for much longer – nor do I want to!”

Ellonúr was quiet for a moment. “We used to be very close, Glorfindel. Fear not, I want but a short moment of your time. Certainly this conversation will be just as inopportune to you tomorrow.”

“What is it then?” Glorfindel asked without ceremony. “I do not want to leave Legolas with Haldir for too long.”

“That is just it – can you truly not see it? You worry about leaving him alone even for a moment... Why are you so quick about binding your fate to his? He is still little more than a child, after all.”

“He is no child. He has little experience and has not known very much of life, but that has never been a prerequisite for marriage.”

Ellonúr scoffed. “He might be no child, yet he is no adult either.”

“And so? My parents were half his age when they became betrothed. What is it you are really after, Ellonúr? I will tell you this: if he was old enough to abuse, and old enough to bear me a child, then certainly he is also old enough to honor – _old enough to love _.”

"Love... what does he know of love?" Ellonúr shook his head and held up a hand in response to the flash of anger on Glorfindel's face. "Peace; I do not seek to insult him. But if it is true what you said, that it _was_ abuse... Then how can there be love now? I do not doubt your feelings for him, even though I cannot understand them. Yet I do not see how you can believe that he feels the same for you, if you truly hurt him in such a grievous way. Some things can never be forgiven, my friend... _Never_. And if Legolas says that he has forgiven you, then I fear that what he feels cannot possibly be true. You know what captivity does to a soul...

"I was a captive too. Do not forget that. I am infinitely more experienced than he, in all aspects of life, of war - and yet even I..." Ellonúr fell silent and slowly shook his head, before continuing more softly. "Sometimes I would be taken from my cell to spend an hour or more in Thranduil's presence. He was very courteous, most of the time. He wanted information, of course, but he also offered me wine, treated me as an equal, would even converse with me on poetry, of all things. I knew what was happening to me, and how, but in the end I thought myself in love with him, and hated myself for it, for I knew that it could not possibly be true. Your little prince has no one in this world save for you now, and if he had not made himself love you, certainly he would have died long since. I am not saying that he is lying, or actively betraying you, but I do think that whatever you believe he feels for you is not something that has grown naturally, but something that has been forced on him by the situation he found himself in.

"I know you for an honorable man, and I know that in the end, you will know this for the truth. And what will happen then? If you have wedded him, recklessly bound your soul to his for all time, then how shall you feel when he realizes what has happened to him, and comes to despise you for it? Or even if _he_ never does; you certainly shall, and it will sour every moment you spend in his company. You know that I speak the truth; you must be able to see this for yourself!"

"It was abuse, yes!" Glorfindel admitted, unable to contain his anger any longer. "For long, long months, it was abuse, and he had no choice but to give in and surrender himself to me in the hope that I would be less cruel with him. I do not deny the truth of your words! But you are wrong if you believe that he has forgiven me. As you so rightly said, such a crime can never be forgiven, nor can it be forgotten. Yet at the same time, what choice have we now but to learn to live with it somehow? Not once has he pretended that he can forgive what I have done, even though I knelt before him in remorse. And he is right - paltry words will never be able to make up for even a tiny amount of the pain I have caused him. No, there is no other way but to live with the memory of my crime, and the hope that centuries of patient loving will heal the wounds that I have recklessly caused, to at last live with the scars that they will certainly leave behind in the end. And do not even dare to suggest that I should send him away to give him the freedom to decide for himself, without my influence. There is no such thing as freedom for him anymore; I bound him to myself as surely as a man who takes a small young animal from the forest and hand-feeds it until it is grown. It will never be able to return to the forest; he will always be responsible for its care. Such it is with Legolas. He is _mine_, in the truest sense of the word, and it will be my responsibility to protect him for a very long time. Maybe forever - but I find that I do not mind that, not at all."

Ellonúr made a soft sound. "You want to wed him out of pity, that much is obvious to me. Of course what you did was a crime - a terrible one, if what you say is true - and yet... You cannot make up for it by wedding him! Pity cannot turn to love, unless it be self-delusion, and if you wed him now out of pity you will hate him ere the end."

"Are you not listening to me?" Glorfindel was quickly reaching the end of his patience. "I will not wed him out of pity! I will wed him for love! Can you truly not believe that?"

"It is hard to believe, if I look at him, and then remember those who graced your bed before him... He has very little to offer you, save for his youth, his inexperience, his utter dependence on you - all of which are fleeting. And I know you for a noble man, Glorfindel. It is indeed hard for me to believe that you would be drawn to him for such unbecoming reasons... It is beneath you, my friend." Ellonúr's voice had gotten softer and more intense at the end, and he had raised a hand to grasp Glorfindel's shoulder.

"I love him, Ellonúr, truly and deeply." Glorfindel gently took Ellonúr's hand in his and pressed it, then let it go. "You are right, of course; to my shame I must indeed admit that a part of me cannot help but appreciate his innocence, the way he has given himself over to me so completely - but quite apart from that, I love him for who he is. His good qualities are many, though you cannot see them. You do not know him at all, Ellonúr, but I do. I know him better than anyone else in his life, better even than his own father ever knew him. In fact..." Glorfindel hesitated, then a reluctant, soft smile smoothed the hard lines of anger on his face. "In fact, he reminds me of one who has always been an ideal I strove after, though I was always aware that I lacked his patience, his compassion, his wisdom. He reminds me of Felagund, whom I knew very well in my youth."

Ellonúr's eyes widened, and he seemed to waver between curiosity and resentment, for Glorfindel had never told him much of his youth, least of all done so much as hint at a past relationship with famed Finrod.

"Finrod the Wise?" he exclaimed at last, disbelief on his face. "I cannot see any similarity whatsoever, though of course you will have known him much better than I, to whom he is merely a name out of songs. Yet again, I fear that you set yourself up for a great disappointment if you judge the youth against such a lofty ideal..."

"I do not. Already Legolas has shown greater compassion than you or I ever will." Glorfindel smiled at Ellonúr to take the sting out of his words. "In any case, do not let us argue, not on this eve, when I finally dare to believe that I have found happiness at last. You seek a proof that my love for him is true, and not merely base lust or possessiveness, or worse, pity? Then look at me, my friend. Look into my eyes, look true, and tell me what you see."

Ellonúr made a scornful sound, yet he did as he was bid, and after a moment, he paled and took a step back. "Impossible!" he breathed. "Impossible! How can this be? How could I not see this? Ai, you fool, do you know what you have done?"

Glorfindel laughed. "I have done nothing. _My soul knows his_, Ellonúr... I am his, and he is mine. I could know no greater joy!"

"I see him in your eyes..."

"As I see myself in his. Already our fëar are as one, and the oaths we shall take will be but a public acknowledgment of that. Do you still doubt my love for him?"

Ellonúr shook his head, looking pale and discomfited at this sudden turn. "I think that I do not know you at all, Glorfindel," he said softly. "I never harbored any pretensions when it came to your heart; we were friends, and I was well content with that. Yet since I have returned... You have changed. You have changed a great deal, and I no longer know who you are. Are you even still my friend? I fear not. I do not know this person you have become, and I do not like what I see. 'Tis not jealousy that I speak from; as I said, I was content with your friendship. I did not need your love. Yet to see you obsess about that youth to such a point that you would forget about everything and everyone else... I was in need of you, and you did not help me. Never before have I known you to disappoint a friend in need."

Glorfindel's mouth tightened at the bitterness in Ellonúr's voice. "I have changed, yes. Yet that is not because I took Legolas to my bed, nor because I opened my heart to him at last. I am a father, Ellonúr," he said simply. "I have become a father since last you saw me; of course I have changed! Long have I desired children of my own, yet the reality of it is even more... _overwhelming_ than I expected. I think of Gîl all the time. He is my greatest joy, his well-being my greatest duty - can you not see that it _must_ be so, that he _must_ be the most important thing in my life from now on? I have changed even as Elrond changed when the twins were born. I cannot be your friend the way I was before, because I have to think of Gîl now - but I would still wish to be your friend. And I would have liked to have helped you, but what you wanted of me was not mine to give anymore. My heart and my love belong to Legolas, and to Gîl..."

"I did not want your heart," Ellonúr interjected. "I wanted but your whip, for even _now_ I think of accursed Thranduil. Legolas is welcome to your heart and he may keep it, if he so desires, but if you truly cherished my friendship, you would not have denied me, not when you knew I needed you!"

"I cannot!" Glorfindel said helplessly. "I do cherish you, I swear that is true, but this one thing I cannot give you anymore."

Ellonúr laughed bitterly. "It matters not. Haldir is more than willing, after all. And yet, it was you that I thought of in my cell when my traitorous heart began to yearn for Thranduil... Proud, noble Glorfindel who would never betray his people - so how could I? Only that, when I returned after my long imprisonment, there you stood before me with your pretty, new plaything and your _son_, too caught up in your own happiness to care about a former friend's pain."

"Forgive me," Glorfindel said and shook his head, feeling lost and helpless at this despair which he knew he could not heal.

“Some things can never be forgiven,” Ellonúr repeated tonelessly; then he turned and walked away while Glorfindel watched, feeling utterly defeated for the first time in a very long time.


	9. 69

Legolas turned to look at Haldir when Glorfindel and Ellonúr were swallowed by the darkness behind them, and the guard gave him a smile that might have been meant to be reassuring, but looked far more like a hungry leer. Or maybe that was only the mead...

Legolas bit his lip, wondering what he could possible talk about with Haldir which would not end up embarrassing or humiliating him, when the wind carried the sound of two voices to them. Glorfindel and Ellonúr... Should he pretend that he had not heard them, or ask Haldir to walk a few steps with him so that he would not listen to his Lord's conversation by accident?

Hesitantly, he looked at Haldir, his dilemma apparently all too plain on his face, for Haldir laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "If Glorfindel is fool enough not to care where his voice might carry, that is his problem."

The wind blew harder, playing with strands of their hair, and for a while all they could hear was the rustle of leaves, so that Legolas began to feel uncomfortable again at the silence between them.

"...not known very much of life, but that has never been a prerequisite for marriage," they at last heard Glorfindel point out, and Legolas felt a wave of heat fill his belly at the emotion in his Lord's voice. Marriage... how strange it still felt to hear Glorfindel talk of it!

He looked at Haldir then, who smiled but cocked his head, apparently just as interested in the conversation as Legolas - and not just for salacious reasons, because Haldir wanted to learn more about the details of their relationship, but also because he would of course have reason to be curious about what Ellonúr would have to say. Legolas could not imagine them together, but then Haldir had never treated him the way he might treat a lover, so for all Legolas knew, Haldir might be an entirely different person when with Ellonúr.

"...Your little prince has no one in this world save for you now, and if he had not made himself love you, certainly he would have died long since...whatever you believe he feels for you is not something that has grown naturally."

Heat shot into Legolas' cheeks, yet it was the heat of shame this time. He lowered his eyes, afraid to let Haldir see his pain, or worse, see him cry - but then arms wrapped around him and pulled him close against a strong chest.

"On the other hand, there are some things no one should have to hear. Come, let us go." Haldir's voice was calm, and Legolas clung to his kindness as he allowed himself to be led up a looming set of stairs that led to another small pavilion hidden away in the night. Haldir released the curtain, and then they were truly alone, encased by darkness, and safe from the treacherous winds that might bring more unwanted secrets.

When Haldir drew him into his arms, Legolas allowed himself to weep at last, but only for a moment, then he drew back and angrily wiped at his tears. "I am sorry... I do not care what he says. I know that my Lord loves me!"

"Too much drink will do that," Haldir said calmly and drew him down to sit on the settee. His arms were still wrapped around him, and though Legolas was certain that he should not do this, he relaxed into the guard's arms at last and rested his head on his shoulder while Haldir gently stroked his hair.

"Thank you," Legolas said softly at last, and Haldir laughed.

"I am quite drunk myself, if you have not noticed," he pointed out and bowed his own head against Legolas'.

"So over-indulgence makes you kind? I shall remember that." There was a smile now in Legolas' voice, and Haldir chuckled.

"Do not think that you will get to take advantage of it again any time soon," he cautioned. "And if I hear any tales spreading about my mellow heart..."

"I would not dare!" Legolas reassured him, laughter banishing the earlier tears now.

Haldir moved his fingers through his hair with a sound of appreciation, then sighed. "Do not think that Ellonúr says those things out of cruelty, or dislike of you. He does not know you, but he does know Glorfindel - or used to, in any case. After what happened to him... Just like you, he needs reassurance. In fact, I dare say that he needs it in much the same way, though Glorfindel is probably more gentle with you than he ever was with him. Still, the truth is that Ellonúr has no claim to your Lord's heart. That was how it was between them before, and they both wanted it that way."

"I can understand that he misses my Lord," Legolas admitted softly. "I cannot imagine ever being without him..."

"And you need not imagine such a thing. I know your Lord; he will keep his promise and wed you, and you will not ever need to fear being rejected by him."

Legolas swallowed, lulled into greater security by the warmth of the mead spreading through his belly, as well as the way Haldir was still stroking his hair as if he were an upset child. "If he were to send me away... Without him, I would surely die," he admitted in a thin whisper. "Is that what makes Ellonúr think that he is wrong for me? I cannot help it; I _am_ his, and I can imagine no other way of being anymore."

Haldir sighed. "What Ellonúr said - I think he felt that it needed to be said to your Lord by someone. Of course, what he did not know was that I have asked your Lord much the same questions, and I dare say that my Lord Celeborn did likewise. Not because we do not think you worthy of him," he hastened to add when the youth stiffened in his arms, "but because such a proposal should not be done thoughtlessly. And if your Lord had not known how to deal with those questions, then certainly he should not even think about marrying you."

"I do not like to see him questioned or accused because of me," Legolas said, and Haldir sighed.

"Leave it to Glorfindel to deal with that. I mean it, Legolas. If you truly want to be his, then do not fear what others might tell him; trust in what he has promised you."

"I do trust him!" Legolas insisted. "I trust him more than anyone else."

"Then do not let what others think of your relationship trouble you. This is something that is between you and Glorfindel, and ultimately, anyone who did not protest at how you were treated a year ago has no right to protest now, when he treats you the way he should have from the beginning on."

Legolas swallowed, remembering what it had been like. "You approved too, back then..."

"Indeed, and that probably makes me a hypocrite now. Fortunately, I have never cared what others think of me. And I could see from the start what drew him to you. Your Lord and I have similar tastes... It might have been wrong, but it is truly irresistible to see such innocence and not want to bend it to your will. I could see how easy it would be, the way you reacted to him, to me too, to anyone who held authority over you and was not afraid to use it. You were afraid, yes, but ahh... that sensuality of your response to his touch... It was obvious from the beginning that you needed his mastery over you. It was wrong how it was done, yes - and still, I cannot help but enjoy the way he made you _his_. "

Legolas blushed again at the intensity of Haldir's gaze that seemed to strip away all the layers of his self to see the truth at the core of him, that part of him that could not help but react to his Lord's dominance with breathless devotion and submission.

"I love him! And what Ellonúr fears will never come true; I will never hate my Lord! What he did, I..." He helplessly shook his head. "I cannot _forgive_, I cannot... I cannot bear to think of it, not yet; but despite all of that, I love him, I _need_ him! He is everything!"

"Your Lord knows that," Haldir murmured. "I am more than certain of that. Your devotion pleases him greatly. That is what _he_ needs. You are both what the other needs - Ellonúr cannot change any of that. He is deeply troubled himself and feels that his friend has betrayed him, but I do not think he hates you. Maybe it is jealousy, for you gave Glorfindel what he could not. Despite your youth and inexperience, you found a way to a part of your Lord's heart that was never Ellonúr's to know. Yet I think that in time, he will see that it is for the best. He and Glorfindel - if you had known them, you would never be jealous of him. What they had was friendship, and pleasure, also affection, yes - but none of the love that is between you."

Legolas smiled. "It is strange to hear you talk so about love..."

"Because I ridiculed you for it earlier? Mmh, I apologized for that, did I not? I meant little of what I said; I did not truly know you then, and I said what I knew would hurt you. I have... little liking for your father."

"Who is not my father anymore," Legolas interjected softly.

"Indeed, though I did not care at the time. Still, if you can believe it, it was rage and anger that spoke at the time - they blinded me. I have always respected Glorfindel, just as I have always respected his playthings." Haldir's lips quirked. "Unless he did not want me to respect them. Be that as it may, when I saw your brother's guards lift a knife against you..."

Haldir fell silent for a moment and Legolas shuddered, remembering his fear, and how it had felt to think that he would die, and never see his Lord and his child again.

"I thought they would kill you," Haldir said roughly. "That was what truly opened my eyes. I imagined myself carrying your lifeless body back to your Lord, and I saw the light in his eyes die. Your death would have been his death as well; I knew that then. They say that he has a fate still to fulfill on these shores, but there was a great certainty in me that were you to be killed, he would take your son and sail, and abandon us to our doom on these hither shores."

"But you saved me," Legolas said softly, and Haldir smiled.

"Who knows if they would have truly murdered you there, where everyone could see - but they were out to harm you, that much was obvious, and I doubt that they would have ceased after cutting your hair. There was a dark rage within them, which I fear I know only too well."

Both thought of the duel, and Legolas flushed with the remembered shame at being beaten so severely in front of so many.

"But you did save me, in the end," he insisted. "Just as Rúmil saved me, then."

"My brother never _hated_ as I did. Ah, and will he not be pleased to know that your endearing innocence even managed to turn my blackened heart?"

Legolas laughed despite himself at Haldir's melodrama. "Your heart is not blackened," he scoffed. "Maybe a little sooty - all it needs is someone to polish it."

They both laughed. "I think that is taking the metaphors too far," Haldir said and gave him a somewhat wicked smile. "Though I suppose I can ask Ellonúr if he wants to polish my... _heart_."

"You are not going to hurt him, are you?" Legolas blurted out, then winced, realizing that it was probably not a good idea at all to question Haldir while under the influence of too much sweet mead. "I am sorry, I know that it should not be my concern."

"But I _am_ going to hurt him," Haldir said suggestively. "Of course I am! That is what I do, after all, and you know that well, do you not? Just as your own Lord hurts you..."

Legolas blushed with mortification and found that he knew not what to say to that because it was, after all, the truth.

"Did you not thank me for the parcel I picked out for you? Much of the contents will indeed hurt, as you will have found out by now. And in Glorfindel's hands, I am sure that they will hurt in just the right way..."

Legolas took a deep breath when he remembered the clamps Glorfindel had put onto his body, pinching his nipples until the pain mingled with the pleasure of being used by his Lord so that he almost fainted from the ecstasy of being owned so completely.

"I see you know exactly what I mean," Haldir breathed into his ear. "Do you truly fear I would harm him?"

Legolas swallowed nervously. "No, not truly... But... Celeborn seemed worried for him..."

"Hah!" Haldir exclaimed. "He is my Lord whom I have sworn to serve, but he has no rights to rule over what goes on in my bedchamber. And it is not for him to judge what I do or not do with someone who comes to me freely. But let us not talk of what my Lord thinks... What do _you_ think? You do, after all, crave much the same as Ellonúr does, and are thus in a much better position to judge me than my Lord, if I have to be judged at all."

Legolas swallowed nervously. He wanted to protest at being compared to Ellonúr - certainly they were not similar at all? _He_ would never beg his Lord for a whipping! But he remembered how it felt to have his Lord's magnificent, strong body hold him down, how it felt to know that even if he wanted, he could not force his Lord to stop, that he was indeed completely owned...

Maybe he wanted that. Not to be whipped, but to be owned, to be held, to be secure... And if that meant punishment for misbehavior, then yes, he would take that too, for he wanted nothing more than to please Glorfindel, who was indeed Lord of his body and soul both.

"I do not think that I am like him, not quite, but... But I admit that there might be a few similarities," he said hesitantly. "I do not truly understand what Ellonúr wants, though I think that in the end, he might crave the same security as I do, the knowledge that someone cares for you, will look after you, will even..." He faltered, then forced himself to go on. "Will even discipline you to help you. My Lord makes me feel safe... I think Ellonúr wants someone to help him feel safe again as well."

Haldir gave him an intent look, all traces of humor gone from his face. "And do you think I can give him that? Or do you think, like your Lord and mine, that I shall let my own needs overrule my mind and use my power over him to break him, instead of healing him?"

"No," Legolas breathed, remembering how Haldir had come to his rescue, how he had held him in his arms afterward, how indeed he had stolen a kiss later on... Yes, there had been that - but no more than that. Despite all of his bluster, Haldir _had_ proven to be a good protector, and if he liked to tease and torment, Legolas thought that Ellonúr might just enjoy that, just as he himself invariably wound up finding pleasure in his own Lord's games, after all.

"No," he said more firmly, meeting Haldir's eyes. "There _is_ kindness in you, and... and honor. I have experienced it myself. I think Ellonúr can trust you. You have no reason to hate him, like you felt hate for me at first, and although I still think that you are somewhat frightening, Ellonúr is much older and more experienced than I. They say he is a great warrior, and Lord Elrond's advisor; he would not allow you to bully him. You might not love him, but I think you care for him enough to truly want to help him."

"Frightening, hm?" Haldir chuckled, then gave Legolas a look free from all artfulness. "There is truth in what you say. He is much older and more experienced than you indeed, yet I fear that even so, there can be wounds so deep that despite all experience, we crave that which is harmful to us. Ellonúr feels great pain and betrayal, he feels _helpless_, for he cannot change what was done to him. I will make him helpless and vulnerable too, but he will learn to trust in me, and find the security he needs, just as you find it in your Lord's arms. I do indeed care for him, and I shall not harm him."

Legolas sighed deeply and once again leaned into Haldir's embrace, trustingly curled against his side with his head on his shoulder, feeling drowsy from the mead. "I do believe you," he said, and there was no doubt in his voice anymore.


	10. Chapter 70

Glorfindel slowly walked down the steps that led to the somewhat broader wooden path which curled around the stately mallorn's branches. He passed another tiny, winding stair that led upwards into the thinner branches and would have passed it unthinkingly, had not soft laughter made him slow and stare curiously into the darkness above.

A moment later, Haldir and Legolas appeared, clutching at each other as they slowly traversed the small steps, the former with a put-upon expression on his face, the latter giggling.

Glorfindel raised a brow when they finally managed to climb down the stairs and stopped in front of him, still clutching at the other.

"Haldir slipped and _fell_!" Legolas imparted to him with greatest delight. "Almost fell, if I had not grabbed him! Can you imagine that?"

"I did no such thing!" Haldir protested, and Legolas giggled again.

"He is drunk," he told Glorfindel very gravely, as if he were imparting a great secret, and Haldir snorted but did not let go of Legolas, as Glorfindel noted.

"You are both inebriated," Glorfindel said and tried to glower at them, but Legolas mirth - influenced by liquor or not - and Haldir's long-suffering grumbling proved to be too much; he laughed softly and shook his head.

"You are both drunk, a little at least. Come here, Legolas, let go of Haldir - please tell me that he did not try anything inappropriate?"

Legolas giggled again and eagerly came to his side to wrap his arms around his neck with a sigh of contentment.

"He did not... Did not even ask for a kiss. He was nice, in fact! Haldir is so kind..." he sighed, and Glorfindel reacted with an involuntary guffaw, while Haldir tried to glower but did not quite succeed.

"Come here, _nice, kind Haldir_," he commanded and offered the warden his hand to help him down the last, steep stairs.

"I did not fall!" Glorfindel's mouth twitched at Haldir's sullen exclamation. "I never fall. I live here! I might have stumbled a little, but it is dark, and in any case I had to prop up your beloved who I have to tell you is quite a bit more drunk than I am," Haldir said primly. "And he still owes me a dance, just so that you do not forget!"

"I would never!" Legolas reassured him. "How could I? I will gladly dance with you, and tell anyone who asks about your kindness."

"That is the surest way to convince them that you are quite drunk," Haldir snorted, and then grinned despite himself.

"Anyway... what did you do with _my_ beloved, Lord? He should be the one to help me back to the hall, and to make certain that I do not stumble and fall to my death from the mallorn." His sarcastic tone showed all too clearly what he thought of Legolas' accusation that he, a wood-elf and a Marchwarden to boot, should manage that which no other Galadhel ever had, save when wounded and pursued by orcs or wargs.

"I fear that I did not quite agree with what he had to tell me, so he already went back on his own," Glorfindel said breezily, and Haldir snorted inelegantly.

"Hah. Walked off in a huff, like a jealous youth, you want to say. Never fear, he will be much better behaved once he has spent a few hours gagged, with his arse striped from my cane. He is going to apologize to me when we catch up with him, if he knows what is good for him..."

Legolas giggled again, obviously trying to imagine the proud advisor bent over Haldir's knee in the same position he had so often found himself in, and Glorfindel raised a brow.

"Do I even want to know just what the two of you have been talking about?"

"No, you do not," Haldir informed him. "Now let us return, before they send out someone else to search for us. You do not want one of your men to come upon you like this, do you?"

"What, with both of you clinging to me because you cannot walk straight anymore?" Glorfindel could not resist to ask, and gave Haldir a doubtful look when the warden made an annoyed sound and let go of his arm.

"I told you, I am not drunk. See, I can stand all on my own." He stretched out his arms and twirled around once, and while he did indeed not stumble or sway, the action itself was so ludicrous that Glorfindel could only barely hold back a snort of laughter.

"Not drunk then, but very much inebriated. Come, Legolas, I will not let go of you, else I am going to find Haldir draped all over you again."

He held the youth tight, keeping an eye on Haldir too as they slowly walked back to the large talan that beckoned beneath them with brightly illuminated windows and snippets of song and laughter.

They did not meet Ellonúr again until they had almost reached the entrance, but when they had caught up with him, Haldir grabbed hold of his shoulder and pulled him back, forcing him into a small alcove formed by the wall and a large branch.

"Kneel," he said, all of his former intoxicated geniality forgotten, and Legolas instinctively moved closer against Glorfindel, feeling breathless at what he heard in his voice.

"What do you think you are-"

"Kneel!" Haldir repeated, his face thunderous, and Ellonúr swallowed and obeyed, though his eyes were flashing with rage.

"You have come to me, and I have accepted you; you _will_ do as you are told, do you understand?"

"Yes," Ellonúr said, though his voice was sullen, and Haldir snorted.

"I do not think you do, but you will. You have made it more than obvious what you need, and I will give you exactly what you deserve – tomorrow, when I am sober. I will not have you in my bed tonight; let us see if a night on the floor does not cool your mood. And _then_ an hour or two – or more, if you need it – bound, and gagged, and blindfolded too, so that you can think undisturbed. Let us see if you _then_ feel ready to talk to me."

Legolas took a shaky breath, feeling strangely affected by Haldir's words. The scenario they painted was frightening, and yet... There was something in Haldir's voice that made him feel weak, his heart fluttering, and Glorfindel smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"We are going to play a different game tomorrow," he murmured into Legolas' ear, "but I look very much forward to that."

Legolas flushed, but found himself nodding – he did agree with his Lord after all, had himself asked for the honor of wearing his knots, and while what Haldir proposed to do to Ellonúr did indeed frighten him, he did not fear his Lord, no matter what he might ask of him.

He found himself turned around then, and thoroughly kissed, so that he forgot all about Ellonúr and Haldir until his Lord released him at last, looking just as aroused and out of breath as Legolas felt.

"Time for my dance," Haldir said, eyes gleaming, and grabbed his hand to unceremoniously pull him inside. Legolas had no time to protest against this treatment, for the musicians had just started a new song, and soon he found all of his concentration needed for the wild whirling at Haldir's side.

Haldir was not a bad dancer, even while inebriated, and Legolas quickly found himself out of breath again. Celeborn saved him at last from Haldir's energetic leading, and returned with him to their table where his Lord was waiting with another glass of mead for him by Galadriel's side.

"It seems you have found a way into our warden's well-guarded heart after all?" Galadriel said with obvious pleasure and took his hands into hers. "Well done, Legolas... It gladdens me to see him shed his pain and rage."

"He is much kinder than I initially thought." Legolas smiled at her, still awed by the air of confident power that surrounded her. She was much like his Lord in that, but while his Lord seemed to exude raw sexuality and desires of a kind that had made him tremble before he had even spoken his first word to him, the Lady's power made him feel as if he were bathed by rays of sunlight, and while it might have the potential to sear and burn, he felt naught but caressing warmth and kindness.

His father's men had told many stories about her ruthless thirst for power, yet Legolas was not frightened by her at all – although he remembered his brother's chastised reaction when her gaze fell onto him, during the first meal they had shared at the high table.

"There is an old custom among my people, which my cousin may remember well," she began and half turned to give Glorfindel that same affectionate smile, her hand rising to gently cover a small diamond that lay nestled in the hollow of her throat and glistened as if it were filled with the light of all the stars of the night-sky. "You might have no close kin here in my realm but for your brother, who does not think kindly of you. Yet my lord was a cousin of your grandfather, just as I am cousin to Glorfindel, the last of my brother Turgon's lords on these shores. I want to give this to you, Legolas, as a gift from Glorfindel's family, on the occasion of your upcoming wedding. It would fill me with great joy to see you wear it."

A jewel of pale yellow, as large as a quail's egg, came to rest against Legolas' breast, and his breath caught when the Lady fastened the slim chain it hung from around his neck. He took the gem into his hand and looked at it in disbelief – it caught the light just like the diamond the Lady wore, yet where hers had the hue of the stars at night, the golden diamond on his palm held a gentler glow, and the warmth of the calm morning sun.

"My brother gave it to me," she said softly, and her eyes seemed to cloud over with sudden melancholy. "He found it when he first followed a dream and came to the caverns of Narog where he would found Nargothrond. He cut it and set it himself. He would be glad to see it given on such a joyful occasion, to such a worthy bearer." She kissed Legolas' brow, who was speechless at the revelation just where the jewel had come from, too speechless to even protest at being given a gift of such unmeasurable worth, as he otherwise would have done.

Galadriel turned and stepped up to Glorfindel, blessing him with a kiss as well. "My brother loved you," she said and raised her hand to rest it above his heart. "He always knew that your heart was good and true. He would know such great joy to see you on this day."

"This, I give to you in lieu of your betrothed's family," Celeborn then said and gravely put a necklace on Glorfindel, who humbly bowed his head to receive it. "It was wrought in Doriath, by Thingol's finest goldsmith. See, it matches your beloved's eyes."

A sapphire rested on a golden chain on Glorfindel's breast, next to his heart. It had been cut in the shape of a tear, and when Glorfindel curiously took it into his hand, he saw that it was clasped by filigreed silver leaves.

"It is beautiful," Glorfindel said with heartfelt emotion. "I thank you - both of you. It means very much, truly, especially as both of our families are unable to share in our joy."

"Thank you," Legolas repeated simply, still not quite able to grasp the enormity of the gift he had been given. A jewel which had belonged to famed Finrod, which he had given as a gift to his sister, the Lady of Light - and who in turn gave it to him, Legolas, who was certainly little more than a child still in her eyes and of no importance whatsoever in the grand scheme of things?

And yet she had said that her brother had loved his Lord well, and his Lord had been moved so much by her gift that Legolas once again felt like a child surrounded by the heroes of songs of lore, who had suddenly come to life around him. He felt like an intruder into their circle, undeserving of standing at their side... He had nothing to offer them in return, nothing to show himself worthy of being a part of their circle but for the fact that his Lord loved him.

Legolas clasped the gem once more in his hand and marveled at the light that seemed captured inside, but then, as if he were aware of his pensive mood, Celeborn grasped his hand and broke up the solemnity of the moment.

"Come, dance with me - and afterward, I think my Lady wants to claim your hand for another song." He laughed at Legolas' wide-eyed look, and the youth had no chance to resist when he was drawn into the throng of dancers once more.

He danced for what felt like hours - with Celeborn first, later with the Lady, and then his Lord tried to claim his hand once more, but was thwarted first by Arwen and then Glorfindel's own men. There was more mead, more wine, even more ale for those who preferred it, and Legolas was aglow with joy and disbelieving pride at being the center of attention of such an evening. Never would he have imagined that something like this was possible, that one day he would dance with the Lady of the Golden Wood herself and not stumble from self-consciousness, or trip over his words in embarrassment at her attention.

Instead, it felt natural to dance and converse with her, with Celeborn, even with the Lady Arwen without feeling out of place. He thought that much of his confidence was due to the mead, for he still felt lightheaded and giddy, yet not so much that he was unable to dance. Instead, the warm glow inside of him made him forget his doubts and the insidious fear that he would say or do something wrong, and in its absence he simply allowed himself to enjoy the feast, the dancing, and trusted that none of those who talked to him wished him harm.

At last, he found himself resting breathlessly against Glorfindel's side, exhausted and flushed from the exertion and the mead, and happy as never before.

"This was like a day out of a song for me, my Lord," he said softly, his eyes filled with love. "I did not believe that such a thing was possible, or that I would ever enjoy it so much. Thank you, my Lord!"

Glorfindel gently took hold of his hand and drew it up to his lips to press a kiss to the slender fingers, one of them now adorned with a silver ring.

"To see that you are truly mine... To know myself fully yours..." Glorfindel fell silent and looked at Legolas, his eyes full of emotion. "I have no words to express my joy, only that I love you."

He gently drew one hand through the pale locks crowned with the silvery and golden blossoms of _elanor_, and their scent wafted around them, made him think of the bright spring day when he had first seen the youth at the lake.

What a terrible thing he had done...

"I love you," he repeated as if to repel the memory, then leaned forward to gently touch his lips to Legolas'. His hand slid down from the youth's shoulder over the iridescent silk, and with a smile and a sigh he drew back at last when his fingers encountered the cool jewel now gleaming on Legolas' breast like a captured ray of sunlight.

"To see you wearing this gives me such joy. He would have loved you, Legolas - he would have seen the worth of your heart. He always saw much more than others gave him credit for. He was compassion mingled with a bright love of life, he was wisdom, gentleness, and adventure. He would have loved you, for you are so much like him, and although I know that all the qualities of your heart have been derided, I want you to know that I loved them in him. You remind me of him, so much..."

"Finrod, Lord?" Legolas breathed, his voice trembling at the emotion in his Lord's eyes.

"Finrod," Glorfindel said and smiled. "Finrod the Beloved... Finrod, fairest of the princes of the Noldor. In my youth, he gave me a mighty gift, and I wished he could have given the same to you. Yet perhaps, one day you shall meet..."

"A gift, my Lord?"

Glorfindel nodded at Legolas' curious question and drew him close. "He taught me that there is no shame in desiring what I desired. He taught me to feel no guilt at how it excited me to have him helpless beneath me, to use my power over him to bring pleasure to the both of us."

Legolas' eyes went wide with shocked disbelief, and Glorfindel laughed and raised a hand to tenderly cup his cheek. "He surrendered to me and felt no shame in his enjoyment of it. And if Finrod could submit to my will without being made less by it, then so can you, Legolas _nín_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Noldorin custom of giving a jewel to bride and groom is described in Laws and Customs of the Eldar, Morgoth's Ring:  
> _Among the Noldor also it was a custom that the bride's mother should give to the bridegroom a jewel upon a chain or collar; and the bridegroom's father should give a like gift to the bride. These gifts were sometimes given before the feast. (Thus the gift of Galadriel to Aragorn, since she was in place of Arwen's mother, was in part a bridal gift and earnest of the wedding that was later accomplished.)_


	11. Chapter 71

The feast continued for a while, but in the end, there came a time when even the excitement, the dance and mead could no longer hide the fact that Legolas was becoming tired, especially when the large _talan_ slowly emptied as more and more of the gathered crowd filed out into the moon-lighted darkness. He felt himself drawn into his Lord's arms and sighed, happy, tired, and yet also sad to see the night end.

A night out of a song this had been for him. To think that this feast had been given to honor him, that so many people had come to celebrate the day of his begetting, and most importantly, that no one had insulted him or tried to otherwise destroy the joy of this day...

It had never happened before, and although sometimes, like a naive child, he had dreamed of a day like this, deep in his heart he had always known that such joy was not meant for him.

And now he had been given such a gift - oh so many gifts, the ring and Glorfindel's oath to wed him, the jewel on his breast cut by famed Finrod himself, the cloak of gold and emerald so richly embroidered that it was almost too heavy to wear - yet the most important gift was this day itself, which made him feel as if he _deserved_ such joy, as if, just maybe, even for someone of such little worth as he, it could be possible after all to not be despised or pitied, but to live the life he had seen others lead.

He kissed Glorfindel so eagerly that for the first time, his Lord's brows raised in surprise, but there was a pleased gleam in his eyes that made Legolas remember in breathless excitement that tomorrow, he would wear his Lord's knots once more, and find such wicked pleasures at whatever games his Lord would devise for them.

This life was _good_ \- too good for someone like him, but oh, right now he almost felt as if it were possible to become the kind of person who would deserve to have such joy every day.

"Let us go home," Glorfindel said softly, and Legolas nodded and smiled to see that the crown of celandine his Lord wore had opened and hung askew on his head, the small golden flowers strewn all over his hair, shoulders and tunic.

Gîl was deeply asleep on a small settee, watched over by one of Arwen's handmaids, and remained asleep even when Glorfindel lifted him and they carried him back outside into the colder night air all the way back to their _talan_. It was quiet and dark and peaceful, the leaves rustling in the wind, the stars diamond-bright above them, and Legolas thought of falling asleep in his Lord's embrace, skin to skin, heart to heart, warmed to the deepest part of his soul by the knowledge that he was loved.

~~~

They slept until the sun was well up. Gîl woke long before them, but though Legolas woke at the sounds he made, he slid back into reverie when he felt Glorfindel leave the bed to see after him. A short while later, Glorfindel slipped quietly back into the bed, and Legolas made a soft, pleased sound and curled up against him once more, walking in dreams at his Lord's side just as he rested against his heart in the waking world.

When they finally woke, it was close to noon, and a luxurious breakfast was waiting for them. Legolas' stomach growled at the sight of smoked ham, eggs and cheese, for it seemed that last night's celebration had left him with a healthy appetite, and a thirst for clear water and strong, steaming mint tea. Yet apart from those cravings, he felt no adverse effects at all, and so once they had managed to clear almost all plates, he leaned back in his chair and looked at his Lord, wondering just what the day would bring him.

Glorfindel smiled back at him. "Arwen will watch over Gîl for as long as we need today. And I would like to swim. Let us go to one of the lakes, and afterward... Afterward, I shall weave my knots into your hair, and you will do as you are told, will you not?"

Legolas blushed and nodded. "Of course, my Lord," he said weakly and swallowed when he wondered just _what_ he might be told to do then.

Glorfindel gathered their clothes, and Legolas breathed a sigh of relief when he saw what his Lord had chosen for him. A shirt of the thinnest white cambric, unembroidered and simple, save for the fineness of cloth and cut, and loose trousers of a pale green linen. His Lord liked to see him in such clothes, and Legolas was relieved that it was not something outrageous or revealing, even though he was well aware that the simple, light garments underlined his youth and inexperience.

Yet once they arrived at the lake, all apprehension was quickly forgotten. The water was cool, but it felt good on his skin, and his Lord was as playful and affectionate as he could have wished for, making it easy for Legolas to forget all inhibitions as he tried to dunk his Lord under water. Glorfindel retaliated by splashing him, and for half an hour they played in the water just as children might, until even Glorfindel grew exhausted at last and they climbed out of the lake to dry themselves in the spring sun, finishing the remains of their breakfast they had brought along.

Legolas brushed his Lord's hair and wove the intricate, formal braids of Glorfindel's lost house into the golden locks while his Lord sang the song of Nimrodel for him, the notes interweaving with the murmur of a small brook and the wind in the leaves while he saw the story unfold, the leaves of the _mellyrn_ as golden as they were now when a tall-grown man chased after a maiden with eyes as deep and mysterious as a dark lake.

At last, they exchanged positions, and Legolas knelt obediently before Glorfindel, his eyes lowered though his lips were parted and his breath came faster with the first stirrings of excitement when his Lord wove the knots of possession into his hair.

Maybe he should have been ashamed, or afraid, remembering that terrible time when he had known nothing but humiliation and fear - but it always felt so good to obey his Lord. And his Lord had promised that he would never hurt him in such a way again.

Legolas looked at the band of silver that gleamed on his finger and once more let the certainty wash over him. He was loved. He was wanted. His Lord might put those knots into his hair and pretend that he was a possession, but that was but a game, and he would order him to take them out again before they came into a situation where he would be shamed by them.

"Most here will not know what those knots signify," Glorfindel said, and Legolas was almost glad to hear that his Lord's voice was husky, that he was not the only one so affected by the situation. "I would not make you wear them in public at home, because I do not do this to shame you - though you look very lovely when embarrassed," he added, and Legolas felt himself flush as if on command so that his Lord laughed.

"Here it does not matter, as the only ones who know what my knots look like are those with a liking for the same games I enjoy. So today, you will wear these while we visit a friend, and I hope you will remember that while you know what the knots truly mean, no one else does."

"Yes, my Lord," Legolas said obediently, and Glorfindel's face was lightened by another glorious smile.

"Always so obedient. Always so good," he murmured and brushed his lips against Legolas' in a quick, affectionate kiss, but then he raised a hand to Legolas' cheek, giving him a searching look. "There is another thing. When I put these knots into your hair, I expect you to be respectful."

Legolas shivered at his tone, which was not quite menacing, but firm enough to leave him in no doubt about just what his Lord would do to him should he not show him the respect that was his due. Glorfindel laughed softly at his reaction, his voice still dark and intimate when he leaned in to continue, so that Legolas had to bite back a whimper of pure need at the force of arousal that swept through him at his Lord's effortless dominance.

"No, I do not have to tell you to be respectful. You always strive to please me. Yet I want you to know that when you are not wearing my knots, you need not be. I _like_ it when you show me such respect, there is no denying that – and I think you know me well enough to know that about me. A part of me would hate to command you to no longer call me Lord - for I _am_ your Lord!"

His eyes grew fierce for a moment, and Legolas trembled, not from fear but from excitement at the truth his Lord spoke. He did belong to him - he _wanted_ to belong to him, to do his bidding, to please him, to be given that indescribably peace and exhilaration that filled him whenever his Lord gave him a chance to prove his obedience to him.

"But what I want you to know is that you need not refer to me in such a way," Glorfindel said at last, his eyes gentle once more, though there was an amusement in them that told Legolas that his Lord knew his thoughts only too well. "When you wear my knots, yes - and believe me when I say that any infraction will be punished. But when you not wear them... you may call me however it pleases you. Know that it does please me to hear you acknowledge me as your Lord, but it would please me just as much to be _Glorfindel_ to you."

"Yes, Lord," Legolas breathed, then blushed an even brighter shade of red while Glorfindel laughed. "I... I am honored. No, that is the wrong word, I - thank you!" He was still flushed with embarrassment, but smiled at his Lord all the same, not certain if he would ever dare address him lightly in such a familiar fashion, but knowing that he _could_, that was... It truly meant so much! And all the same, he knew that Glorfindel was his Lord. He needed him to be, as much as he needed his love and support; it was... a constant, something he could cling to when doubt overwhelmed him and he felt as if he were all alone in the world with his fears.

He fell to his knees once more, embarrassed too at what must to his Lord seem like a penchant for dramatics, but he knew no other way to express what he felt save to express it in the trappings of fealty. He took his Lord's hand and pressed a reverent, fervent kiss to it.

"You are my Lord; despite everything, you are and you always will be. I swore myself to your service, and I meant that oath. I would have begged for a position as your squire, or as whatever else you bade me do... I might have no experience and no great knowledge, Lord, but I do love you, and I yearn to serve you in whichever way you will have me."

Glorfindel raised him gently and kissed his brow. "I know that; I know that your heart is true. I take your oath seriously. I would not jest with such matters! You have sworn yourself to me, and as your father has renounced you, I consider you _mine_. You are of my house; mine to protect, mine to demand service of."

He pulled Legolas closer all of a sudden, his embrace becoming fiercely possessive, protective. "You do me proud, Legolas; never forget that."

~~~

Legolas was still filled by love and almost disbelieving pride when they at last left the glade of the small lake. He was not certain where they were going, but he did not dare to ask either. He would do as his Lord asked no matter what, he had sworn he would, and so it did not matter whether his Lord took him to see the Lady of Light with the knots of possession in his hair, or just intended to show them off by a walk through Caras Galadhon.

Of course, it soon became apparent to Legolas that his Lord did in fact have a particular destination in mind, and when they entered the glade where he had looked through stalls with Gîl and Haldir on market day, Legolas knew whom they would meet even before his Lord drew him along to step into the saddler's shop.

It was not market day today, yet even so the shops scattered among the _mellyrn_ trunks were opened as the artisans and master craftsmen with their apprentices plied their trade. As soon as they stepped through the door and the saddler saw just who had come to visit him, a smile spread over his face and he abandoned his work to come and embrace Glorfindel.

"I am sorry that I could not come and see you earlier, but from what I have heard, Haldir has already shown Legolas your selection..."

The saddler laughed and grasped Glorfindel's shoulder. "I have heard that you were busy, and now we all know the reason too. Congratulations! I was so pleased to hear the news this morn."

Legolas flushed with pleasure when he realized what the saddler was talking about.

"This is Daerthón," Glorfindel then introduced him. "I know that you have met him before, when Haldir showed you around, and that he showed you his _entire_ selection."

Daerthón grinned. "From what I heard later on, you managed to handle Haldir very well. My wife and I had a good laugh at his expense, in any case. But I see that Glorfindel brought you here for a reason..." He took hold of the strands woven into that unmistakable sign of ownership, and Legolas' flush deepened when he realized that Daerthón belonged to those who were aware of what the knots meant.

"That suits you very well. I knew from the moment I first saw you just why the rumors said that you had bewitched Glorfindel. But come, I am certain you are not here for saddles and headstalls!"

"Indeed we are not," Glorfindel said and laughed, and then led them to the small room at the back of the shop which Legolas had entered once before at Haldir's side. Legolas tried to not let his apprehension show – and it was not as if he were truly afraid, yet he could not help but feel embarrassment still, even though he knew that Daerthón delighted in the same games as his Lord did. But despite his best endeavor to remain unaffected by the display of instruments which he knew awaited him, once more he flushed a bright red when he entered the room and saw that it was not empty. In one corner, a woman sat, her stature slender and her hair a distinct, Silvan silver, and in her hands-

Legolas swallowed. In her hands she held a half-finished flogger, her delicate fingers deftly weaving thin strands of black leather into an exquisite instrument meant for the delivering of pain.

"Glorfindel!" Any impression Legolas might have formed of a calm, demure Silvan girl was forgotten when she jumped up and almost hurled herself at his Lord, then stopped and grasped his hands to curtsey at the last minute as if remembering just in time that it would be untoward to greet a Lord of Imladris and cousin of her Lady so familiarly. "How good to have you back with us at last!"

Legolas could only stare with wide-eyed astonishment when she turned to look at him, and he realized that despite her energetic exuberance, it was no young maid that stood before him but a woman many times his age and experience.

"And that is your new pet? How lovely he looks! Almost too sweet and innocent to be bedded by you, but we all know that looks can be deceiving."

Legolas blushed brightly as everyone laughed, and then she gently tugged on the strand of hair that bore Glorfindel's knots.

"Marked as yours, too... Why, did you bring him here today to play with him? That would be a most intriguing and welcome entertainment!"

 

\---------------  
Daerthón – great pine  
\---------------


	12. Chapter 72

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by Beruthiels_Cat, thank you so much! :)

"I fear we are not here to entertain you." Glorfindel rested one hand on Legolas' shoulder, feeling the youth relax again at the reminder of his support. "This is Eithellin, Daerthón's wife. Do not let her scare you. She is not as wicked as she would have you believe."

"In fact, I am not wicked at all!"

Legolas' gaze fell to her hands which still held the half-finished flogger and she laughed.

"Maybe I am at that, but certainly only a little wicked. At least compared to the infamous Glorfindel."

Legolas found he could not take his eyes from Eithellin while she and his Lord exchanged banter with the ease and affection of old friends. Ah, sweet Valar, did everyone in Lórien play these games?

He flushed anew when they paused, realizing he must have voiced his thought aloud.

"Not everyone - but more than you might think," Eithellin said, amused, and gently put down the half-finished flogger.

"No one at home was doing anything like this!" Legolas said almost primly, his mind not quite able to believe that a lady could truly indulge in the same games as he and his Lord. Meeting Arwen had scared him, yet she at least had behaved as he would have expected of a well-bred maiden; she had not mocked him for appropriating something never meant for one like him, as had been his secret fear all along. So many had mocked him in Imladris for this thing he had never asked for, yet would a woman not have even more reason to loathe him?

And yet, Arwen had been kind, far kinder than he deserved.

"Believe me, Prince, they were!" Eithellin's eyes gleamed with barely suppressed laughter. "I have cousins in the Greenwood, a rowdy bunch, but much given to gossiping. I shall not name names, but there are more than you think."

Legolas looked down, unable to argue, fearing for a moment that he had once more shown himself to be little more than a child in such manners until Glorfindel tightened his arm around him in encouragement.

"You truly must think everyone in both Imladris and Lórien has desires like mine, but it truly is not so. It is only that I know nearly everyone who feels as I do. It is good to have friends who feel similarly, with whom I can talk without fearing to be judged. It is only natural to be drawn to those who share your desires," Glorfindel explained gently. "Especially if those desires are something which is rarely a suitable subject of conversation. Take Daerthón here, who, like I, knows just about anyone who plays the same games we do."

Daerthón pointed at the small room they were gathered in. "This is not a craft I could make a living by doing - I began making certain tools for my own enjoyment, and then was asked by a few friends to make something similar for them. The news slowly spread, and now orders for my tools arrive even from places as far away as Imladris. People enjoy coming here for a chat, though, and to meet people who feel likewise. Apart from private gatherings, there is not really anywhere we could meet; thus I'm only too happy to provide this place, small though it is. Unfortunately not everyone is in a position where they can be as open about their desires as your lord is."

"I would just like to see Elrond try and tell me what I can do in the privacy of my bedchamber," Glorfindel said, canting his head arrogantly.

"He needs you," Daerthón agreed. "But unlike you, I am merely a saddler, and there are others who could do my work. Therefore, I do not brandish a whip in the middle of the market place."

"Have I ever done so?"

Eithellin laughed. "You have, lord. You said you wanted to try your purchase."

Legolas' eyes widened. "Did you truly do that, my Lord?" he asked breathlessly, awed and disturbed by the thought of what it would feel like to be disciplined in such a public place.

"I did... though I did not use it on a lover. How about you, Legolas? Do you like that thought?" Glorfindel cupped Legolas' face in his hand, and the youth released a trembling breath, staring up at him with worship and fear. Glorfindel relented.

"I would not do that to you," he said gently and kissed him. "Not now, in any case; and maybe not even if you begged me. Like Daerthón said, I am allowed many things others would not be, but there is an end even to Galadriel's patience. Now go, look around to see if you find something you like."

"Something I would _like_?" Legolas repeated with obvious disbelief. "Say rather something _you_ will like, my Lord. I think I will have no trouble finding something you will like here."

"Already becoming willful, _roch neth_?" Glorfindel raised a brow and laughed when Legolas flushed, then kissed him again before pushing him towards the display of whips and floggers he had previously admired at Haldir's side.

Legolas trailed his fingers over the smooth, dark leather, still not quite able to believe these had been woven by Eithellin's slender hands. No matter what his Lord said, the thought of a lady enjoying such things was still strange to him; although, as had been shown, it was true he knew nearly nothing of life yet. Once upon a time, he would not have been able to imagine the Lord of Lórien or famous Glorfindel indulging in such games either...

He wandered on, past a display of small clamps which made him blush and wince in memory. No, his Lord did not need more of these devices; the ones he had were already more than enough. He eyed the next display case with wary curiosity, expecting to find more devices of pain or pleasure; but instead, the case was filled with small rings in silver and gold and steel, some unadorned, some encrusted with small gems.

"You have jewelry too?" he said, and there must have been a hint of relief in his voice at finding something so benign, for his Lord shook his head as he came to stand beside him, a wicked smile on his lips.

"Jewelry, yes... but a _special_ kind of jewelry. Is there anything you would like in here?" Glorfindel voice was soft and intimate against his ear so that Legolas shuddered, caught between curiosity and fear. Yet he could trust Glorfindel... couldn't he?

"I would like these on you," Glorfindel murmured, opening the case and taking up a pair of golden bars with small emeralds embedded at each end. "Though these might be something for a special occasion - too gaudy for everyday wear. I usually like to see you in something simple, yet costly; for that is what you are to me – a rare treasure all the more precious because of its purity. Rings of unalloyed mithril for you, yes... _That_ is what I would like to see on you."

Legolas trembled, aroused by his Lord's words, even though he had not forgotten that they were not alone. "But my Lord," he whispered, "they are far too small for my fingers. Are they earrings?"

Glorfindel laughed against his ear, and then without answering, began to open his shirt of fine, thin cambric. Legolas swallowed but did not dare protest, watching as his Lord bared his chest.

"This is where these belong," Glorfindel said at last and held the small, golden bars against Legolas' nipples, which were already tightly drawn up from helpless arousal. "Pierced through your flesh. It will hurt - but for a moment only, quickly over. Once healed, there will be pleasure even more intense than what you have known before."

He slowly rolled a small, erect nub between the tips of two fingers and Legolas made a soft sound of breathless pleasure, his eyes closing as he leaned back into his Lord's embrace. "Do you like the thought?" Glorfindel murmured intimately into his ear. "Pierced by my jewelry... marked as mine, wearing it for my pleasure as well as your own?"

Legolas swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry; he could not say whether from excitement or fear. "I do," he heard himself reply. He trembled, frightened by his own courage.

Did he want this? He wanted to please Glorfindel, and the thought was intriguing - but his Lord had mentioned pain also, bringing to Legolas' mind thoughts of the clamps. Those had hurt, too; and though his Lord had changed the pain into pleasure more intense than anything they had done thus far, it would not be a game this time, to be abandoned once they had both found release. To wear jewelry pierced through his flesh at all times... What would others think of him? What would Fairion say, the next time they sparred together bare-chested; what would Laindir say if he joined Glorfindel's men for another bath?

And yet, they knew Glorfindel and loved him... No, Legolas thought; they would not say anything which might hurt him. It would be different in Imladris, but he felt no inclination at all to share a bath there with someone whom he did not know. Nor would he be forced to return to the lessons with the other youths. Still, there would always be a chance that someone would see, and mock him for it... Yet would Glorfindel ask this of him if he knew it would worsen his standing in Imladris?

And his Lord was excited by the thought of him pierced through by the small golden bars.

Legolas looked down to where his Lord's fingers still teased a nipple that stood out dark and firm and Legolas moaned softly, feeling reckless and bold.

"I do, Lord!" he repeated - because he did. He wanted to belong to Glorfindel, to be claimed so completely he would never have to fear rejection again. Had his Lord desired to brand him like a horse, he would have consented to that too, he thought breathlessly; whimpering softly when his Lord pinched his nipple until it hurt.

"Do you?" Glorfindel asked, the darkness in his voice making Legolas feel lightheaded. "Do you truly? Would you let me pierce you – right here? Right now?"

"Yes, Lord," Legolas breathed, and then found himself turned around, Glorfindel's mouth against his so that he moaned and clutched at his shoulders.

"I think maybe I should not - but I will." Glorfindel's eyes were dark with hunger and desire when their lips parted at last. Legolas' legs felt weak, and he thought if Glorfindel's arms had not held him, he might fall to the floor like a swooning maiden.

How Glorfindel did this, he could not say, but he felt as he had the evening before, only now he was drunk on desire and need instead of the sweet mead. Only Glorfindel had ever affected him in such a way. The scent of his skin, the taste of him, his voice thick with lust when he spoke...

Legolas slowly shook his head, as if to free himself from the spell he was under, but there was no escape from how Glorfindel made him feel. There had never been; and if he was honest with himself, he did not want it to end, not ever.

His heart ached with the force of the yearning that drew him towards Glorfindel, even though they were standing so close together he could feel the rapid beat of Glorfindel's heart against his skin; and for one moment he wondered if this was the sea-yearning he had heard of in songs - only his heart did not yearn for the salty waves of the ocean and the cries of gulls. _Glorfindel_. Glorfindel was all he wanted, with a longing so intense it was a pain like that of a sharp blade sliding deep into his heart. There was only Glorfindel – there had only ever been Glorfindel, and there were no words to express this aching need to know himself fully owned by his Lord.

"Anything you ask of me, Lord," he said with breathless devotion; and Glorfindel closed his eyes for a moment and groaned, a shudder running through his body. They still stood so close together that he could feel Glorfindel hardening; Legolas made another breathless sound, wanting, needing, _fearing_.

"Little tempter... I never was very good at denying myself. And why should I? Why should _I_ deny myself something I want? And I want you, _roch neth_, more than I ever wanted anything before." Glorfindel's breath came fast; his voice deepened, dripping seduction and dark desire like honey oozing from a comb. Legolas shuddered and suppressed the urge to throw himself at his Lord's feet and beg for he knew not what.

"I am yours!" he vowed again. "Until the very end of this world and past it... I will always only be yours!" He thought of the silver ring on his finger, imagined a golden one in its place; his fëa bound to Glorfindel's fate for all eternity and his heart ached again with yearning.

"I do not want you to deny yourself, Lord..." He breathed the words against Glorfindel's lips; captivated by the storm of emotion in Glorfindel's eyes, trembling like a deer facing its hunter.

"I shall not," Glorfindel said, his voice a threat, a promise; Legolas moaned when Glorfindel's thumb rubbed across a sensitized nipple once more. "I will mark you as mine, _roch neth_, and you shall bear the pain for me. Cry if you want... It will not make me cease."

"Yes, Lord," Legolas whispered again, and nearly fainted when Glorfindel's hand slid lower to find him hard and needy as well. He moaned brokenly and tried to move into his touch, but then Glorfindel gripped his shoulders and pressed him back and down. Legolas found himself sitting in a chair, unmistakably erect and aroused, facing not just his Lord, but the owner of the shop and his wife as well.

Legolas' cheeks colored. He had all but forgotten about them, and embarrassment came rushing in with the realization that they had seen him come close to begging his Lord to take him right then and there. And yet, what did it matter, as long as he pleased his Lord?

"You have a needle here, Daerthón?" Glorfindel asked, his voice still hoarse with need, so that Legolas shivered and bit back a moan. "And some strong spirit to clean it with?"

Legolas shivered again, trying to imagine what it might feel like to have golden jewelry pierced through his nipples – certainly the pain would be terrible? But then, his Lord had said it would be over quickly...

He gasped and flinched when something icy cold brushed against his chest, then flushed with embarrassment once more when his Lord laughed and hushed him as he would a skittish horse. He flinched again despite himself when his Lord rubbed a spirit-soaked cloth against his other nipple. And then swallowed when he saw the needle in Glorfindel's hand. It was not the small needle a woman might use for embroidery, but instead was long and thick enough to pierce leather. Or skin...

He breathed in deeply, feeling lightheaded as he watched Glorfindel place the point against his nipple.

"Look at me," Glorfindel commanded, and Legolas obeyed, his mouth parting for a silent gasp at the sharp pain when the needle was driven through his flesh. Tears rose to his eyes, but he looked at Glorfindel's face as he had been commanded, feeling as if he could drown in the force of desire his Lord exuded.

"Very good," Glorfindel murmured at last, and Legolas took a deep breath, realizing for the first time that he had been holding it since Glorfindel had first put the needle against his skin. He dared to look down at last and whimpered softly at what he saw – the cruel, gleaming needle driven straight through the sensitive nipple, small droplets of blood beading at either side.

"Beautiful, _roch neth_!" Glorfindel's voice was breathless, and Legolas gasped again when his Lord pulled the needle out and licked up the droplets of blood that had appeared like red beads at either side of the small punctures. His nipple burned and throbbed, but it was quite unlike the pain of the clamp, which had been sharp at first and then had dulled to a persistent ache. This pain was not dull at all – it was sharp and hot and intense; and when Glorfindel took up the small golden bar and pushed it through the tiny hole he had made, Legolas whimpered and closed his eyes; more tears flowing at the painful sensation. Glorfindel kissed away those tears as well when he was finished, then kissed Legolas' lips, taking his mouth with blatant possessiveness while Legolas clutched at him in abject surrender.

"Begging for mercy, _roch neth_?" Glorfindel asked at last, and Legolas shook his head, still trembling and crying.

"No, Lord," he whispered devoutly, holding still when the needle was placed against his other nipple, even though his tears were still flowing freely. There was more pain that forced a sob from him, and then the needle retreated and Glorfindel soothed his aching nipple with his tongue, so that Legolas moaned at the intensity of it, sharp pleasure mingling with the ache of the puncture wound. Then the second little bar was pushed through his flesh, making Legolas gasp again. Yet despite the hot, throbbing ache, he held still in surrender while Glorfindel secured the jewelry in position with the emerald-studded ball which fit onto the bar's pointy end.

"There. All finished. How beautiful you look like this," Glorfindel breathed. "All mine." He gently wiped the tears from Legolas' cheeks, smiling at the way the youth looked at him with worship in his eyes. "It will take a few weeks until it is truly healed. I will be gentle until then, I promise."

Legolas looked down at his chest again, breathing deeply at the strange arousal which filled him at the sight of his nipples pierced straight through by the golden bars. He touched one hard, swollen nub and gasped; squirming a little on his chair until Glorfindel rested one hand on his thigh and used his thumb to stroke along the side of his swollen shaft, pressed uncomfortably against the confines of his breeches.

Legolas closed his eyes and groaned, his head falling against the backrest of the chair. He had not forgotten that Daerthón and his wife were watching them, but Glorfindel was just too overwhelming, and he could not think... He would leave it to his Lord to decide what was appropriate for them to see and what was not.

"Be careful with him," Eithellin said, while Glorfindel continued to slowly stroke Legolas with the pad of his thumb. "You truly have found a rare treasure. He is indeed very beautiful, as everyone says, but _there_ is the real reason why you cannot let him go. The way he reacts to you. So expressive... He cannot hide what you make him feel. That must please you immeasurably! Oh yes, I can see the appeal – enough to almost feel jealous."

Legolas kept his eyes closed, even though her amused, clear voice came from directly in front of them. But Glorfindel kept stroking him, tormenting him with the lightest touches just _there_ at the crown of his shaft, and his lips parted in a voiceless moan, needing _more_, no matter who watched...

Glorfindel chuckled at his moan of disappointment when he stopped. "Not now, _roch neth_ \- not here. But later..." There was a dark promise in his voice, and Legolas shivered with nervous delight. He tried to get up, but his legs refused to carry him. He fell against his Lord, who wrapped his arms around him to hold him up while Legolas buried his hands in his golden mane to kiss him once more, aflame with desire and hunger and the sweet, sharp ache of his pierced nipples.

\-------------  
Eithellin – fountain gleam  
roch neth - colt  
\-------------


	13. Chapter 73

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by Beruthiels_Cats, thank you so much! *hugs*
> 
> Sorry for the long, long wait. This chapter is a bit shortish and also ends on somewhat of a cliffhanger, but at least I have already written two thirds of the next chapter. This time I really hope that I can make up for the long wait by posting chapter 74 soon as well. :)

"Either you take him home with you now, or we will leave so that you are undisturbed," Eithellin said, her voice warm with amusement.

Legolas heard her speak, but found that the words made no sense, for Glorfindel's breath was ghosting against his throat so that he closed his eyes and moaned, his breath catching when Glorfindel nipped at the tender skin.

"He is truly very beautiful, Glorfindel. Beautiful, and sweet in his submission; you are a man to be envied. But there is no need to show off your good luck any more than you must. Why do you not take him back to your bed?"

Daerthón came up towards them and rested a hand on Glorfindel's shoulder, shaking his head in gentle admonition though he winked at Legolas.

"Or if you want to stay here, we can make certain that you remain undisturbed...?"

Legolas forced himself to resist the temptation of simply surrendering to Glorfindel. He knew how little it would take to make his Lord accept the offer - another moan from him, a sigh, even a single look - but with what little of his reason was left to him under the onslaught of Glorfindel's sensual might, he realized how potentially embarrassing it might be to remain in this room with Glorfindel, while Eithellin and her husband knew exactly what they were doing.

When he was close to Glorfindel like this, so securely under his spell that he would truly do almost anything to have his Lord touch him, there was no more thought of embarrassment - yet a hint of Legolas' natural modesty still remained.

"Your bed, my Lord...?" he breathed, eyes dark and unfocused with desire, his lips swollen from Glorfindel's kisses, gleaming wetly in invitation.

Glorfindel hesitated for a moment, breathing heavily as if he had been running while he stared at the tempting vision of the youth before him.

"I do not know if I can make it to our bed," he admitted hoarsely. "Not when you keep looking at me like that."

Another kiss to bruise Legolas' lips and make him moan with yearning and surrender, and then Glorfindel stepped back, unsteady on his feet as if he had partaken of strong wine.

"The things you make me want to do to you..."

"Oh, do tell us more!"

The familiar drawl broke through the haze of desire so that Legolas' eyes widened and he half turned, wanting to groan in embarrassment and exasperation.

Haldir. Of course it was Haldir. Was it not always Haldir, who seemed to have an unfailing sense of when it would be most inopportune for him to appear...?

"Had I known I would meet you here, and in such a state – why, I would have made certain to come earlier. What a fascinating view this is! Are you going to give us a demonstration of your many talents, Lord?"

When Haldir completely entered the small room, Ellonúr followed behind him, dressed not unlike Legolas in a flimsy shirt and loose breeches. Legolas tried to not let his feelings show, though he feared that like so many other times, he was not very successful. Haldir was intimidating at the best of times – though there had been the last evening, and Legolas wanted to squirm at the memory of what he had called Haldir. Had he truly called him kind, and noble? And would Haldir use it to mock him now?

"To chance upon you here – well, I am not surprised. Did you come looking for inspiration, or have I already missed all the entertainment?"

"We did not come to entertain anyone, least of all you. Though in a way, you did miss the entertainment." Glorfindel's eyes were heavy-lidded and aglow with equal parts satisfaction and unveiled lust. He slid an arm around Legolas' waist, possessive and openly gloating as he stood before Haldir and Ellonúr, too affected by the erotic tension their entry had disturbed to care about how Ellonúr might feel at this display.

And at the moment, it did not seem as if Ellonúr was in any situation to care about the one who had supplanted him in his former lover's regard...

Ellonúr's gaze had been turned downward as they entered the room, but when he looked up his eyes were just as dark, as lost in pleasure as Legolas had been.

Legolas bit back a gasp, flushing a little with embarrassment as he could not help but wonder just what Haldir had done to bring that expression to Ellonúr's face. His own nipples still ached, adding to the erotic tension of the situation, and he felt breathless and weak; utterly helpless to whatever Glorfindel planned to do with him.

"Did I?" Haldir murmured. "Well, well... He does look a little _excited_. Did you try out Daerthón's wares on his skin? That would be a pity to have missed."

His eyes were dark and intense too, so that Legolas shivered when meeting his gaze, despite their easy camaraderie just a day past. Yet Haldir's smile was lazy, replete as a cat after the hunt, so that Legolas felt himself blushing and looked away again, uncertain and unsettled by the strange current in the air.

"If you truly desire to know..." Glorfindel laughed softly, so that Legolas shivered again when his Lord's breath gusted against his ear. "I must admit that I am eager to show off my handiwork. And who would not be, with something so beautiful to unveil?"

Legolas felt light-headed when Glorfindel's fingers undid the first button of his shirt. He knew what his Lord was doing, and the thought of being bared to Haldir like this... It frightened him. It excited him. He could barely think anymore, and Glorfindel undid more and more buttons, until he could part the shirt and let Haldir see for himself how he had marked Legolas.

There was silence for a moment, and Legolas, who did not dare to raise his face to see Haldir's reaction, had to bite back a moan when his Lord brushed against a hot, throbbing nipple as if by accident.

"My, my... Now that is a surprise. It seems that we did indeed miss something worth watching."

Legolas could not help it, he felt his face heat even more when he at last dared to meet Haldir's eyes again. "Would you have liked to watch?" he heard himself saying, then froze with embarrassment and surprise at his daring.

"How can you doubt it? I am certain it was an..._inspiring_ sight. Did you cry out? Or did you just allow your Lord to do whatever he pleases to you, so sweetly obedient that from anyone else I would think it but an overdone act?"

"Jealous?" Glorfindel laughed, one of his fingers delicately circling a pierced nipple again so that Legolas' breath grew more labored. "He was indeed as obedient as I could ask for today. He earned himself a reward..."

Legolas moaned softly, almost out of his mind from the light touches Glorfindel kept teasing him with, though at his Lord's next words, he was quickly returned to soberness.

"What sort of reward would _you_ choose for him, Haldir?"

Haldir smiled slowly and came closer, until Legolas pressed closer against his Lord, feeling small and crowded caught between these two men, each of whom embodied power and raw desire in his own unique way.

"An interesting question. What reward would I give him, if I were you? I can think of a few things... Maybe I would mark him as mine in yet another way, with whip or cane, giving him welts to match his beautiful jewelry. Or I would allow him to use that pretty, pretty mouth to please me - does he enjoy that? I think he does," Haldir mused while Legolas felt his cheeks heat to an even darker red, well aware that his reaction told Haldir all he needed to know.

"But as I do not share his predilections, let us ask someone who has a more innate understanding of what might please your little prince. What do _you_ think, Ellonúr? What sort of reward would you choose if you were Legolas?"

Legolas forgot to breathe for a moment when he felt Ellonúr's gaze come to rest upon him. Ellonúr disliked him, he was well aware of that - and after yesterday, he knew exactly what his Lord's former beloved thought of him. _A child who knows nothing of love, not worthy of someone like Glorfindel..._

But for once, Ellonúr surprised him. There was no derision, or even any trace of dislike on his face when he looked at Legolas. Instead he looked... he looked like Legolas thought he himself must look. Eyes dark and unfocussed with pleasure, or lust, lips swollen and moist as if Haldir had kissed him before they entered...

Legolas swallowed when he realized that he had moistened his own lips, yearning for another kiss himself.

"You already gave me what I most desired, master," Ellonúr said, and there was a breathless timbre to his voice. "The marks of a whip, wielded by your hands. It is the reward I would ask for, though I do not know if it would please the prince as much as it pleased me." He closed his eyes and swallowed, shivering slightly when Haldir passed a hand along his back.

"Glorfindel is a master in that, as in so many other things," Haldir agreed, his smile widening in satisfaction at Ellonúr's reaction. "It would make a fine reward. Bearing your mark on his skin for the days to come. Or perhaps something more immediate - more personal, like your hand on his skin? But that does not leave welts as a whip does, and certainly your little prince would look very fine with red welts on that fair skin. Do you not think so, Ellonúr?"

Haldir did not allow Ellonúr time to answer, but followed Glorfindel's example in quickly stripping him of his shirt. Beneath, Ellonúr's skin was marked by angry red welts that covered his entire back, and Legolas gasped when Haldir took his own hand to place it on Ellonúr's skin.

The whip marks where hot beneath his touch, and Legolas trembled, feeling frightened not because of what Haldir had done to Ellonúr, but how it made him feel. Legolas had denied that he wanted pain; he had denied that he wanted to be punished. Yet at this moment, he felt faint and small and helpless, and he only knew that he wanted.

He wanted...

He wanted Glorfindel. He wanted to belong. He did not want to doubt, to fear, to be forced to battle himself all the time, and heat rose inside him with the impact of lightning. _Hurt me_, a part of him begged Glorfindel silently, while another part of him trembled with his hand still on Ellonúr's skin.

Haldir looked at him, yet he did not say a word. There was no need; Legolas saw the heat in his gaze and knew that he understood. He felt like a small animal cornered by wolves, helpless and shivering, and when Glorfindel's arms came around him, he almost cried out in shock at the sudden touch. He felt like a taut bowstring drawn until it would burst, and at last it seemed that Glorfindel felt pity for him.

"Enough," he murmured and drew Legolas tightly against him, one hand sliding down Legolas' chest to cover his rapidly beating heart. Glorfindel's voice was taut as well, and Legolas opened his mouth in a silent moan when he felt his Lord hard and ready against his buttocks. "Enough, Haldir. He is young still; I will not whip him here for your entertainment. Had you shown more compunction earlier, I might have invited you to visit us this eve, but now you will have to earn such a privilege. Another time..."

"But you will whip him?"

Legolas whimpered at Haldir's words, but not from fear but something more, something that made him feel lightheaded and reckless.

Glorfindel smiled against Legolas' neck. "He is young yet, and inexperienced," he repeated as if to tease Haldir. "Do you know that the worst I have done to him yet was to use my belt? I shall not whip him, not now, though the thought is tempting. But there are other ways to leave my mark on his skin. Mayhap I shall let you find out for yourself tomorrow... Or mayhap I won't let you satisfy your curiosity at all."

Haldir gave Legolas a slow, appreciative look, his gaze lingering on the newly-pierced nipples until Legolas wanted to squirm. "I showed you my own little pet - let Legolas touch him, even. Are you certain you do not want to return the favor?"

"I repeat, Haldir, stood you higher in my good graces..."

Glorfindel did not end the sentence, and Legolas thought of Haldir's hand tracing the welts on his skin which his Lord would be certain to leave. He felt unsettled, and not because he remembered the day when Haldir had first touched him in such a humiliating, intimate fashion. The thought of his Lord showing him off as Haldir was showing off his own handiwork on Ellonúr's skin was arousing him with such an intensity that he almost felt frightened of the desire that heated his skin and threatened to sweep away all inhibitions. Then Glorfindel touched him teasingly between his legs, and Legolas whimpered and closed his eyes. He, too, was erect, and he tried to press himself against his Lord's hand beseechingly, almost wild with need.

"Oh, he is lovely!" Haldir's voice was hoarse, and when Legolas opened his eyes with another hot blush, he found that Ellonúr had been allowed to turn around again and was gazing at him with heated intensity.

"Are you not sorry now for how badly you behaved yesterday?" Haldir's voice was silk, and then threat. "You have not yet apologized."

Ellonúr fell to his knees without a word of protest, and Legolas' eyes were wide with uncertainty and confusion to have his Lord's former lover kneeling before him.


	14. Chapter 74

"Forgive me for my behavior, Legolas. I was rude and insulting, and I am sorry."

There was no menace or derision on Ellonúr's face now, and for once Legolas could see the similarity in them, or thought he could. Legolas did not feel intimidated now... And then Ellonúr leaned forward and pressed his lips to where Legolas' hard length was straining against the thin fabric of his breeches. Legolas gave a strangled moan at the sensation of soft lips, hot, moist breath; a teasing flick of Ellonúr's tongue dampened the fabric where it had already soaked up the first few drops of silvery liquid that Glorfindel's touch had drawn forth...

Legolas stiffened and gasped for air, and then Glorfindel's hand was on him again, opening his breeches enough to release his shaft and grip him firmly. Legolas could not breathe when he looked down and found that the red, glistening crown of his shaft was pointed directly at Ellonúr's lips, the rest of his length firmly imprisoned in Glorfindel's tight grasp. At the pressure, another drop welled up from the small opening, and Legolas thought he would die or explode when Ellonúr leaned forward eagerly and pressed his tongue against the sensitive slit to lick up his essence. Then, his mouth parted and Legolas cried out as he watched himself being devoured by Ellonúr's soft, red lips with such obvious pleasure; as if he were a sweet...

"No," Glorfindel said, biting back a groan himself. "Just watch." Ellonúr leaned back obediently and Legolas whimpered again, embarrassed by the thought of meeting his eyes but not certain where else he was supposed to look. Glorfindel lovingly massaged his length, his touch slow, yet so utterly familiar with what Legolas liked. He teased the exposed glans with the pad of his thumb, slickening it with the clear liquid that welled from the slit, and Legolas kept making breathless, whimpering sounds even though he knew that Glorfindel was only showing off his body and reaction to his touch. Oh yes, Glorfindel was showing off his mastery over him, and Legolas wanted it; wanted to be mastered and used, wanted only to please his Lord... He felt himself growing impossibly harder in Glorfindel's hand while he looked at Ellonúr's wide, dark eyes and tempting lips. Then Glorfindel's strokes came faster, squeezing him almost to the point of pain, and Legolas cried out helplessly as he gave himself up to his Lord's demands.

His seed splashed against Ellonúr's chest in a ribbon of pale liquid, some of it hitting his face, glistening on those soft, red lips so that Legolas cried out again at the thought of Ellonúr's mouth on him. Yet once Legolas was spent, the heat of desire turned heavy as lead, and the sight of what he had done made him inexplicably break into tears.

He sobbed inconsolably, not quite certain what he had done, or why he had done it. Where before he had felt only breathless, reckless desire and need, now he felt sick and ashamed, shocked by the view before him. Yes, Ellonúr had frightened him and hurt him with his words, but now Legolas himself felt sick with remorse. What had seemed so arousing before now made him feel wretched, so that he was suddenly afraid of Glorfindel's games once more. He did not mind what his Lord did with him, but never had he wanted to hurt another; seeing his glistening seed drip from Ellonúr's lips made him tremble with dread.

He could not stop crying, even though he felt ashamed of weeping like a child in front of so many others, but the sobs shook his body and the tears blurred his vision until he could no longer see clearly. Then he was suddenly drawn forward and held, a hand soothingly rubbing his back while he continued to helplessly sob into Ellonúr's shoulder. He could not believe that Ellonúr truly held him in his arms, but he was too distraught to fight the embrace, and blessedly, for once Ellonúr did not mock him.

While his body shook with the force of the sobs he had bottled up for so long, Ellonúr kept gently rubbing his back. "Hush," he murmured. "Glorfindel is right; you are very young and inexperienced yet. It is not unusual to be frightened. We were all frightened at first. And no one thinks less of you for it. This means nothing – this does not diminish your worth as a person. Nor does it change my worth, just because I let you spill your come all over my face."

Ellonúr laughed softly and drew back a little, his hands coming up to frame Legolas' tear-streaked face. "You did not hurt me. You did what your Lord demanded of you, and you did so very well. Glorfindel is a true master, and yes, I do envy you his attentions. But _you_ did not do this to me." Ellonúr slowly licked some of Legolas' seed from his own lips, smiling wickedly when Legolas' breath hitched. "Your Lord did this to me, and you had no choice but to obey him. _He_ punished me, not you. He did it not to shame you, but to shame me – and because he knows how these sort of games make me feel. He knows that I like it when he treats me like this... and how it is even better if he does it in front of others. Haldir knows it too, which is why he allowed it – that, and because you were most lovely to watch, let me assure you. We understand, Legolas, all of us do. No one here thinks less of you for it. We think _more_ of you, because you are so sweetly obedient to your Lord."

His eyes were kind, but unapologetic, and then he leaned close again to whisper into Legolas' ear. "I just wish he would have let me suck you..."

His eyes gleamed when Legolas blushed hotly, remembering that single, electric touch of Ellonúr's tongue and how it had made him feel. He still could not stop crying – the tears just kept coming, as if a dam had broken which he himself had never even known he had erected. Then he was drawn back into Glorfindel's arms once more as Ellonúr returned to Haldir's side and was thoroughly kissed. Legolas found his cheeks heating again despite his tears at the knowledge of Haldir still being able to taste him on Ellonúr's lips...

He half-moaned, half-sobbed at the thought, and Haldir gave him the gleaming smile of a predator; making a display of licking his lips as well. "Just think… most of us in this room have now had a taste of you. And when next we meet, you will know that I will be remembering this. Mayhap one day I will get a taste of you in truth?"

"Not anytime soon." Glorfindel's lips quirked near Legolas' ear before turning him around so that Legolas could hide his tears against his throat.

"The next time you visit the Golden Wood, perhaps?" Haldir's suggestion made Legolas tremble, but the tableau was broken as Haldir sighed and threw Ellonúr's shirt at him. "Clean up and get dressed. Let us give them a moment to themselves."

Daerthón and his wife filed out after them, though Eithellin stopped to press a kiss to Legolas' brow. "Stay as long as you like," she said kindly. "There is spring water in that pitcher on the table, and I know Daerthón hides a bottle of blueberry spirits beneath the heap of old leather in the corner."

Then they were alone and all was silent. For the first time, Legolas allowed himself to cry in Glorfindel's arms, all his grief and despair released from the dark corner of his heart where it had lain hidden for so long.

"I do not want to be like this," Legolas sobbed at last against his Lord's shoulder; the stiff material of Glorfindel's tunic already soaked through with his tears. "I want to be like you, but I am not; I am not… and I will never be. I want you to love me, but I know I do not deserve it. I want to be _liked_. I just want to belong, but I know it is impossible; no matter what I do, I just do not seem to be able to make people like me. I wish I could be as everyone else, but I just do not know how!"

He felt like he was choking on the despair and hopelessness that seemed to accompany him every day, and though a distant part of him was shamed to death by his humiliating display, the tears just would not stop.

"I hope and hope that someday it will all be different, but it just does not happen. I feel like I am walking a maze, and whenever I think that I am finding the way out, the way is blocked and I find myself walking deeper into the darkness at its heart. It just does not stop… it does not _ever_ stop… How will I ever become someone of any worth whatsoever, when I feel nothing but fear and guilt and shame every time someone even looks at me?"

Legolas felt as if his heart were breaking. He had dreamed of one day becoming more than the lost child he believed himself to be, but even now, when he was no longer Glorfindel's slave but his betrothed, the fear and doubts did not let up, continually tormenting him almost every waking moment. He had never been able to see a way out of his maze of despair, but had made himself walk on and on, clinging to the slim hope that one day, it would be different- one day he would feel the same self-assurance as Haldir did, as Ellonúr did, or any of his Lord's men. But how this was to come about he could not say, and a part of him had long since decided his hope was little more than a dream that would not come true.

"I cannot escape," he whispered, still shaken by his sobs. "I want to, so badly, but I do not know how to be any different. I do not know how to be someone who is liked. Every time one of your men looks at me I fear that I will say or do something foolish that will make him mock me. Every time Fairion spars with me I am afraid he will see that I worship him the way a young child does, and that he will laugh at me for it. Every time one of your men invites me along, I fear I am forcing my company on them, and that someone will tell me to stop following them around. I want to be liked so badly, Lord, but I do everything wrong, and I do not know how to stop being like this."

Glorfindel simply held him. Legolas buried his face into his hair, his sobs quieting at last, now that in a moment of recklessness he had given voice to his deepest, darkest secrets. He breathed in the familiar, comforting scent that clung to Glorfindel's hair and skin. He smelt of sunshine and warmth, of joy and freedom, and also of comfort and safety, making Legolas wish he truly were just a child, to be held and soothed in these arms and to know that Glorfindel would let no harm come to him.

Had he ever been held like this by his father? Legolas could not remember, though he thought he would. He remembered Celeirdúr, when he was very young, coming into his nursery in the evening and rubbing his back while telling him stories. It had not happened often, for his brother was the crown prince; thus his time was precious and spoken for, but the evenings when he did come, Legolas felt like he was the center of the world, almost bubbling over with happiness.

Yet he did not stay a child forever, and the time for storytelling and falling asleep while having his back rubbed soon passed. Had he ever been embraced since then – truly embraced, so that he felt safe and loved, if only for a moment? Not until Glorfindel, Legolas thought, and clung to him more tightly.

It was shameful, to cling to him like a child. He should be old enough to voice his needs, to give and receive affection equally, like any adult in a relationship. Instead here he was, needing to be held and reassured – how Glorfindel could not despise him Legolas did not know, for the truth was, he despised himself for his shameful behavior. He did not doubt Glorfindel's love for him – how could he, when the warmth of Glorfindel's love shone on him like the sun whenever Glorfindel was near? And yet, the fears that plagued him were insidious, and he could not help but wonder if Glorfindel would still feel compassion rather than exasperation if a thousand years passed and Legolas was still in need of constant reassurance.

"Shh," Glorfindel murmured, gently stroking his hair. "There is no shame in tears, my heart. Tears help you heal."

Legolas silently shook his head, not trusting himself to speak after his shameful outburst, and Glorfindel pressed a kiss to his hair. "You have always cried alone." It was not a question, and shame rose in Legolas anew when he thought of how obvious it was that he had never had any true friends.

"But you are not alone anymore," Glorfindel continued quietly. "There is nothing shameful about crying in the arms of the one who loves you. Especially not after what I did to you. Legolas, I know I told you that I expect you to be respectful while you wear my braids, but what we do can be so overwhelming that it breaks down barriers we did not even know we had. Ellonúr knows this. I once did something to him that afterward made him cry and cry in my arms, and he did not even truly know why. He held you because he knows what that feels like, and because there is nothing shameful about it. I know that so far your experiences have been different, but neither Fairion nor any other of the men who came with us would pretend to be your friend only to hurt you. You are not equally close to all of them, but so it is for the rest of us. Yet the ones you have come to know more closely truly enjoy your company. You bear my ring on your finger, and you have borne me a son – for that, they show you respect. But anything beyond this – affection, comradeship – they show you because they like you."

"But what is there to like about me?" Legolas asked so softly that Glorfindel's heart was breaking at the insecurity and self-loathing which seemed firmly sequestered at the root of Legolas' entire being.

"Fairion especially has taken you into his heart. He is open and easy-going with just about everyone – a good guard, though I would refrain from giving him more responsibility just yet. But in all the years he served beneath me, I have never known him to speak an untruth in order to hurt someone. He is a good man, and a true friend to those he loves. He is good with our youth, too – I sometimes let him teach, because I know that he enjoys it. So if he offers to teach you, and wants to spend time with you beyond your lessons, then that is because he enjoys the time he spends with you. You are very easy to love, Legolas. Beneath those doubts and fears, I see a true and loving heart. A gentle heart – which does _not_ mean cowardice," Glorfindel insisted, "but an unparalleled capacity for love and compassion. You would do anything for those you love."

Legolas shook his head. "I only ever think of myself," he whispered, and Glorfindel took hold of his chin to raise his face, wishing he could make Legolas see himself the way he saw the youth.

"In what way are you selfish?" he asked gently. "Because your thoughts are trapped in those fears at the bottom of your heart? I wish it were otherwise, my love, but there are valid reasons why you doubt yourself. Have you not been taught that any kind of attention means pain or shame for you? How is your heart to know that it can be different now? Wounds need time to heal. Wounds of the soul might need decades. But even if it takes centuries, I will be by your side, loving you faithfully, this I swear. And in time, your wounds _shall_ heal, and there will come a time when they will barely ache at all."

"I like Fairion," Legolas forced himself to admit, even though he feared his Lord would pity him once the day came when Fairion's interest in him would wane. "But how can I be his friend? He knows so much more than I. I must be little more than a child to him. And I know my doubts and hesitation are not endearing. I... I fear I do not truly know how to be a friend." He looked down, ashamed by how pathetic he must sound, but then forced himself to go on. Did love not mean that you trusted the one you loved with your fears and hopes? It scared Legolas more than anything else he had ever done. It felt like removing what final little remnants of armor which remained to his soul, but at the same time he was so tired of ceaselessly fighting his fears and doubts that he forced himself to continue. Certainly anything would be better than to continue to walk this maze alone in the darkness.

"I had friends once. Or I thought I did. When I was very young. There was a group of us children who received lessons together from various tutors. Between lessons, we were allowed to play in the small gardens by the entrance, safely behind my father's great gates. Three of those children I considered my friends, and most of the time you would find us in the lower branches of an old beech that was just perfect for climbing." Legolas smiled, though there was sadness in his eyes. "Thuldir I considered a very good friend… until one day, after a lesson, we walked to our tree and he asked me why I always had to follow them around.

"See, there was the truth revealed to me. I was not their friend. I was just someone who annoyed them by following them, even though he was not wanted. After that, I... did not follow them any more. But I had no other friends among the children there, and I did not know how else to spend my time between the lessons. Standing there alone in the garden while the others played, not knowing what to do or to whom to go... I think that was the first time I ever felt like an outcast."

Legolas sighed and again rested his head on Glorfindel's shoulder. The tears had stopped a while ago, and now all that seemed left was a bone-deep weariness. He felt as if he had been flayed inside and out, all his skin gone so that only flesh remained and even the lightest touch brought agony. And yet he belonged to Glorfindel, did he not? How often had he sworn to his Lord that he belonged to him completely, body and soul? Thus these secrets belonged to his Lord as well, and it was up to his Lord to decide what to do with Legolas' confession.

"It makes me sad to think back on it, but it does not hurt any longer. Thuldir is a good person," Legolas insisted. "His father belongs to my father's council. He is part of the faction of Silvan councilmen who always think of the good of our community before such things as power or wealth. And while I was yet guarding horses, Thuldir began to serve the council as a page. He did not dream of swordsmanship, as I did, but only of the good of our people. I am certain that one day soon, he shall follow his father into the council and accomplish good things there. He was no bully, he just..."

"He just hurt you. And because he was no bully, you think he was right in what he said. I do not believe that, Legolas. It matters not to me what he said, or why he said it. What matters is only that you were hurt. You think it was your fault? I tell you now, it is of no importance. You were hurt, and that is real – you bear the scars to this day, whether he desired to hurt you or not."

"But I cannot expect people to know I am so..._sensitive_, so easily hurt," Legolas said, full of loathing for himself. "That is something _I_ have to deal with, not they."

"You are so hard upon yourself. You set yourself impossibly high goals, and then punish yourself because you cannot reach them. But do you remember what _this_ means?" Glorfindel gently pulled at one of the knots he had woven into Legolas' hair. "This means that you are mine, truly mine. I told you that this is but a game, but at the core of things, what we are, _who_ we are, that is reality. You belong to me, because you cannot be any different, and I own you, because I cannot be any other way either. You are mine, and I think that you know that for both of us, it must be this way, and it will always be, no matter what outer form our games will take. At the heart of it, this is our truth."

Legolas found himself nodding, for Glorfindel did speak the truth, even though he himself would not have known how to express it in words. But the feeling was there, deep in his heart, and instinctively he knew that he could not be any different, even if he tried.

"You belong to me. All of you belongs to me. I shall punish you or reward you however I see fit. And I shall take measures to remind you that _I_ am the only one who has the right to punish you. _Only_ I, do you understand?"

Legolas nodded again, his mouth suddenly dry.

"You have no right to punish yourself," Glorfindel continued relentlessly. "Just as you have no right to pleasure yourself. You accepted that easily; I fear this new rule will take a little longer to be accepted, but fear not, I _will_ make you accept it. Every evening before we go to bed, you will list all your transgressions for me to judge and to punish. All of them; you will leave nothing out. You will tell me anything you said or did or even _thought_ for which you think you deserve to be punished. And then I will judge you, and I will punish you accordingly. And if I find out that you have been holding back and punishing yourself for something you think you did – believe me, _roch neth_, I will make you wish you had not."

His smile was threatening and predatory, yet full of love at the same time, so that Legolas felt as if something inside him was melting, and heat returned to his blood at this show of his Lord's strength. He lowered his eyes submissively, but then wrapped himself tightly around his Lord once more, needing to feel him close. "I will, Lord," he whispered breathlessly. "I promise I will."


	15. 75

Warmth was the first thing Legolas was aware of when he woke. The warmth of Glorfindel's embrace, as well as the warmth of his love which had shone on him like the sun while he had walked through dreams by his Lord's side, crossing from verdant forests to gardens filled with strange, bright flowers.

As in his dreams, Glorfindel was by his side in the waking world as well, an arm possessively draped across his waist so that he could not have escaped if he had wanted to. And he did not want to. Instead, Glorfindel's possessiveness made it easier to simply accept the love and affection that was offered, and Legolas snuggled into Glorfindel's embrace, banishing all thoughts from his mind in order to simply enjoy this precious moment where nothing but happiness seemed to exist.

Of course, it did not last for long. While the first rays of the morning sun moved slowly across the room, teasing the strands of Glorfindel's hair to a brilliant, golden gleam, Legolas could not help but remember what had happened the day before, and with the memory came shame. To break down like that in front of so many... No matter what kind words they had said, Legolas knew that his behavior had been pathetic. He flinched when he thought of what they had to think of him – would they tell others how he had behaved? It had felt freeing to weep in Glorfindel's arms, and yet he could not help but feel ashamed for it now in the light of day.

He forced the thoughts back. He did not know how to stop thinking like this, but for now, he knew how to distract himself with other things. A part of him still felt shy even though he was alone with Glorfindel – even though Glorfindel was asleep still, and unaware of what Legolas planned. And yet, even after all this time, it was hard not to feel self-conscious when he was the one to instigate intimacy. Everything was so much easier when Glorfindel commanded his body, so that all he had to do was to obey and experience...

Legolas chided himself for a coward. This was ludicrous. After all, he knew exactly how much Glorfindel was going to enjoy what he wanted to do. He sat up, gently extricating himself from his Lord's arms, and drew back the sheet, uncovering that finely made body to his gaze. Glorfindel's skin gleamed golden in the sun, and Legolas' mouth felt dry with sudden, aching hunger at the perfection of his body, strong muscles chiseled as if by a master artisan. There was no being on Arda more glorious than this, he thought breathlessly, and pressed a tender kiss to Glorfindel's length, still soft and unwontedly vulnerable. He breathed in Glorfindel's scent, the musk rising from the golden curls at the base of his shaft, and then enveloped him in his mouth. Glorfindel made a soft, murmuring sound of pleasure, and Legolas wondered for a moment what his Lord was seeing in his dream. But then he concentrated fully on the pleasure of feeling Glorfindel like this – and a pleasure it was, the way Glorfindel was taking over his senses, the heat of him in his mouth, the texture of soft silk over hard steel, his taste on his tongue...

Legolas moaned deep in his throat at the way Glorfindel had begun to harden at his first touch, the knowledge of how he was pleasing his Lord adding to the pleasure of feeling him, tasting him like this. How could he _not_ enjoy this?

And yet, once he had not... He hesitated for a moment when the memory came unbidden over him, threatening to drench him like an icy shower in winter, taking all pleasure he had felt with it. He remembered the first time, Glorfindel's hand in his hair, a shame so vast that he had felt lightheaded with it, stumbling along the side of a precipice that ever beckoned. He had not given in to the lure of the darkness that called his soul, but the shame of doing what Glorfindel had forced him to do had left him feeling sick to the bottom of his soul.

How had that changed? It should have seemed impossible, and Legolas felt shame rise up anew, but back then, he had been given no choice but to do what was asked of him, no matter what it was. And when Glorfindel used his body, it had been without thought for Legolas' comfort or pleasure, save when he could use the pleasure Legolas felt too further shame him.

Yet being told to serve Glorfindel with his mouth had not been as intimate, as shameful or even as painful than to lie helplessly beneath the lord, his body and his soul forced wide open while his lord used and abused him for his own pleasure. Legolas had quickly come to prefer to use his mouth instead then, no matter how shameful it had felt, for even if Glorfindel would still use him afterward, with his passion already mostly sated he would be less forceful.

Legolas allowed Glorfindel's hard length to slip from his mouth, feeling cold and unsettled all of a sudden. Why was he thinking of it now? That was the past... A past he did not want to think about. Shame curdled in his stomach and he slowly shook his head as if to force the memories away, desperately trying to think of something else. His gaze fell on Glorfindel, who had made a sound of complaint when Legolas had drawn back, his eyes slowly clearing when he left his dreams behind, and Legolas felt his heart racing in his chest with shame and despair and desperate need of this one man who seemed to believe that he was of any worth.

"Please," he whispered, his voice near breaking, moving back into Glorfindel's embrace. "Take me, please... I need to feel you!"

Glorfindel groaned softly, blindly biting at Legolas' lower lip while his erection slid against his thigh.

"Turn around," he then commanded hoarsely, and without further wait, as if he could feel the depth of Legolas' despairing need for him, slid deep inside him as soon as the youth obeyed. The slickness of Legolas' saliva eased the entrance somewhat, but not as much as oil would have, so that Legolas felt every painful inch of Glorfindel's shaft take possession of him with an aching, raw immediacy. And oh, how he wanted it, wanted it all, even the pain...

He whimpered, tossing his head with need, unable to squirm because Glorfindel's strong hands held him relentlessly in place, forced him to take all of his Lord's impressive length until he gasped with the impossible feeling of fulness and grasped his own thigh with one hand, spreading himself open for Glorfindel in submissive invitation.

This was what he wanted. This was what he needed! To forget, to be unable to think because Glorfindel overwhelmed every single one of his senses, until he was nothing but trembling need and surrender, unable to do anything but accept whatever Glorfindel chose to give him, all the sensation, all the pain, all the ecstasy. To be nothing but a thing to be used, a thing to please... He moaned, whimpered, turned his face into a pillow to stifle his cries, spreading himself open further, _needing_ Glorfindel, needing him deeper, needing him harder...

He was nothing but surrender now, nothing but sensation, floating between pleasure and pain, completely owned, and then he felt Glorfindel touching him with a slick finger, stroking along the tightly stretched muscle while he slowly moved in and out with forceful thrusts that made Legolas ache to the bottom of his soul – and then, _oh!_ He sobbed, begged, feeling broken and completely open to Glorfindel when he felt one finger enter him as well alongside Glorfindel's hard shaft, forcing him open further than what he had ever felt before, so that all he could do was gasp and quiver and let it happen.

He had no recollection of what happened after that. All he remembered was white-hot pleasure, a sensation almost too intense to be borne, and floating on a cloud of sated pleasure afterward, too overwhelmed even for thought.

Regaining his senses felt much like coming out of a faint, and he tiredly moved his head to lean it against Glorfindel's shoulder, closing his eyes as he breathed in the comforting, familiar scent. For a long moment, they rested together wordlessly and Legolas just allowed himself to drift, the ache of Glorfindel's thorough possession of him still with him, as was the languid heat of the pleasure he had known. Memories came unbidden after a while, though this time they were more welcome, if still embarrassing. He thought of weeping in Glorfindel's arms yet again the past evening, after Glorfindel had made good on his promise and forced a full confession of all of his perceived misdoings from him, and then, oh, Glorfindel's hands teaching him a lesson he would not be quick to forget...

Legolas squirmed at the memory, still embarrassed by it after all, and then thought with a suddenly dry mouth of how this evening, he would have that to confess to his Lord as well...

"Awake again?" Glorfindel buried a hand in his hand and then drew his face close for a slow kiss. "Lovely Legolas...Such a temptation you are to me. But ai, what better way to start the day? I fear that if you were thinking of taking Gîl to the horses, you will have to think of something else now. I cannot see you spending much time in the saddle after the work-out I gave you."

Legolas winced in agreement. "I can take him to the river instead, and we can try and catch a newt. He likes that."

"Oh, and will not Haldir love that." Glorfindel gave a deep, throaty laugh at the thought of proud Haldir kneeling in the mud in order to catch a newt for Legolas. "Or ask him if there is some other part of the Golden Wood he would like to show you. I am not ready yet to let him off the hook for his horrid treatment of you, but I do believe that he has had a change of mind. And you seem uncommonly fond of _nice, kind Haldir_ now as well..."

Legolas blushed despite himself when he remembered his own drunken antics at Haldir's side. Oh Valar, he could not believe that he had truly said that, and for Haldir to hear as well!

"Do not let him tease you too much. Of course, he is fully aware that you do like to be teased at least to a degree..."

"I do not!" Legolas indignantly protested, and Glorfindel rolled them over, easily subduing him with laughing eyes.

"Of course you do, Legolas. He can see that, as can I - as can Celeborn, and everyone who has eyes to see. And who would not? You react to it so well. And from what I remember, you took his teasing as it was meant to be taken at our betrothal feast. It is but a sign of his admiration and affection for you, and a hint of desire as well, I admit, but then... How could one like Haldir possibly resist you? To men like him, like me, seeing you react to every word I speak, nay, even to the way I look at you, to my mere presence, is a great temptation. He cannot help reacting to you, just as I seem completely unable to resist you."

"So what you are telling me, Lord," Legolas said, coyly lowering his eyes at the honorific, "is that in truth, I am the one who wields great power over you and Haldir, and Celeborn as well?" He looked up again at Glorfindel then, and broke out in laughter at the mix of horrified amusement and, indeed, the first stirrings of desire on his Lord's face.

"No, my Lord, please!" Legolas begged, still laughing. "Do not tell me I have such power. Even if I had, I know not how to wield it at all, and in truth... In truth I am happy to know myself in your power." His voice had softened at the last words, and when he looked at Glorfindel, there was no artfulness in him at all, even though the earnest desire to please that was in his eyes so often was this time softened by warm affection.

"And that is how I like it as well," Glorfindel said and then, wickedly, attacked again, trying to turn them over once more until, at last, they tumbled from the bed altogether and looked at each other in frozen shock before breaking out into laughter.

"That was not very romantic, my Lord," Legolas chided and tried to right himself, only to find himself wrestled to the ground once more.

"I am in a rather rough mood today, it seems," Glorfindel growled and playfully bit at Legolas' throat, who giggled but could not help shivering in delight at the possessive gesture as well and turned his head, offering himself up to his Lord's teeth and lips.

"Shall I send you off to Haldir like this, marked by my teeth, reeking of desire, still filled by my seed?" Legolas found he could not answer, shocked by the wild desire that rushed through him at Glorfindel's words. "He would know exactly what I did to you this morn. I cannot help but like that thought. And poor, poor Haldir, he would have liked so much to watch you take your punishment..."

Legolas whimpered and then closed his eyes, tears brimming on his lashes when Glorfindel ruthlessly slid inside him once more, making him ache, making him tremble and writhe in need. It was exactly what he needed; it was overwhelming, too much and yet not enough, so that he clutched at Glorfindel, gasping for breath, staring at his Lord above him with his golden mane illuminated by the rising sun, his smooth body gleaming with sweat, and his eyes, oh...

Legolas felt himself sinking into them as if into a deep pool of water, pulled by an invisible current that frightened him with its strength, and then, suddenly, he felt warmth, the heat of Glorfindel's soul warming his as the sun warmed both their bodies, and his climax was drawn from him as his body shook and trembled from the intensity of lust, desire, voracious _need_ that washed over him so that he did not even knew if he cried out, if _Glorfindel_ cried out, or where the sound of his name had come from that now reverberated inside him, voiced with possessive desire, overwhelming need and such impossible, tender love...

"Don't cry, Legolas. Don't cry, my heart," Glorfindel whispered and kissed him, so that Legolas moaned almost mindlessly, still trembling not just from his release but also from the strength of the emotions that coursed through him. Glorfindel was still inside him, but when Legolas looked up at him, he felt their connection even more fiercely. It ran like a jolt through him when he saw his own face reflected in his Lord's eyes, and at his reaction, Glorfindel smiled and moved to kiss him once more.

"My love," his Lord then murmured into his ear, his body so deliciously heavy on top of his own that Legolas wrapped his arms around Glorfindel's neck to hold him close, wishing that they could remain so connected for all time.

"Do you see? Already, I am yours... How foolish I have been, to try and deny my love for you. Have I not possessed your body countless times? And have I not already sworn myself to you? The oaths we shall take in public, my heart, will be but a public affirmation of what our hearts already know is true. You are mine and I am yours, and so it shall remain until the end of Arda itself, with Eru as our witness."

Legolas silently looked up at him, awed and overwhelmed by the strength of the love that streamed through his entire body at this declaration, and Glorfindel, as if drawn by an irresistible force, moved to cover his face and throat with hundreds of kisses.

"Haldir knows," Glorfindel at last admitted. "And Ellonúr. If I think about it, certainly Galadriel and Celeborn do as well – such a thing would never escape the notice of the Lady of Light. What a fool I have proven to be, denying such a thing to myself while my heart had already decided to cleave to yours... Ai, I should have told you in a more romantic setting, but-"

"No," Legolas said softly. "This is just right," He wiggled just a little, filled to overflowing with disbelieving love and oh, still helplessly excited by the feeling of his Lords still inside him. Then he laughed and shook his head, wondering if he was dreaming, but oh! The force of Glorfindel's love filled his heart to nearly bursting, even while his Lord's eyes gleamed with unshed tears. He laughed again, for sheer, overwhelming joy, and then kissed Glorfindel once more until they were both laughing, both crying, and it took a long, long time until they managed to clean and dress themselves and help Gîl eat his breakfast.


	16. 76

Later that day, Legolas ruefully remembered Glorfindel's words when Haldir took one look at him, his eyes gleaming with wicked amusement. As Legolas had feared, one look was all Haldir needed to know exactly what his Lord had done to him, though Legolas found his teasing easier to bear after the revelations of the past few days.

He still felt trepidation every time he met Haldir's eyes, and could not help the way he flushed and stumbled over words when Haldir purposefully moved too close for comfort. Yet at the same time, there were no insults, no derision, and Legolas thought that maybe Haldir could simply not help who he was; the same way that he himself could not help his own reaction to Haldir's insouciant arrogance. Anyway, as puzzling as Haldir was and as much as Legolas still could not make himself trust him, Haldir also knew how to be entertaining, and how to put Legolas at ease with their conversation.

At times, Legolas wondered whether Haldir realized how much this delighted him. To interact with someone who seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say, in what he thought – it was something Legolas had known only very rarely, and he always feared that his pleasure in being taken seriously by another revealed that so far, he had only ever been a bystander watching the lives of others.

“Brooding again?” Haldir smirked when Legolas started and thrust his cupped hands forward, showing off a huge newt, dotted with black spots and a large, jagged crest on his back. It raised its head to peer at Legolas, giving him a baleful look. “Must be the king of the pond, coming to greet our visiting prince. Say hello, your highness. Or better yet – give him a kiss? He might be one of those unfortunates cursed by Melkor early in the First Age – another arrogant Noldorin prince, mayhap. They say that a few unfortunates still wander these shores in the warty guise of a frog, waiting for the one who might break the curse. Or – you know the story of Amroth and Nimrodel, yes? My father told it quite differently, and I cannot help but wonder...”

Haldir studied the put-out newt with a raised brow, as if to compare the irritable lizard's facial features with those of the erstwhile ruler of his forest.

“Thank you, but no.” Legolas gently pushed Haldir's hands back. “Even if it were true, Amroth the lizard seems to enjoy his life as king of the pond. And I need no arrogant Noldorin prince – I already have an arrogant Noldo of my own, as you well know. Give him to Gîl and let him put him back into the pond.”

“Poor Amroth. No kiss for you. And no kiss for me.” Haldir sighed and then turned to hand the newt to Gîl, who seemed deep in an earnest conversation with a toad.

~~~

"You will miss me," Haldir remarked as they slowly strode back, and Legolas could not help but smile at the casual arrogance of those words.

"What makes you think so? I will rather be glad to escape from your continual tormenting, I would say."

"Oh no, you _will_ miss me, little prince. There is no one like me in Imladris, and you well know it."

Legolas wanted to roll his eyes at Haldir's smug self-satisfaction.

"And a good thing it is. I do not think I could deal with another like you."

"Perhaps I'll accompany Ellonúr when he returns," Haldir mused as if he had not heard Legolas' answer. "In any case, it will be interesting to see how things will change. You are going to cause quite a stir when you return with his ring on your finger, did you not realize? Not everyone will be happy about such a development."

Legolas looked down for a moment. "No one will be happy about it; I know that. But what can I do, but trust my Lord in this? There is no sense in listening to those who do not care for me. They disliked me before, and they will not think any better of me now. But my Lord knows this, and if he is prepared to deal with all of that, then what can I do but to trust, and to follow? In any case, you know my Lord. There is nothing that fans his determination like being told he cannot do something. He is almost as bad as you in that regard." Legolas gave Haldir a quick glance to find him smiling broadly at the description.

"If such were true, I would have collected more than a single kiss from you by now. But you are right, I think. He cares nothing for their opinions of course, and why should he? But I do hope he remembers that you are in a quite different position. He should not just thrust you into such a situation and then leave you to deal with the fallout. And there _will_ be fallout," Haldir warned. "They like their hierarchy in Imladris. For many of them, seeing you at Glorfindel's side as little more than... well," he interrupted himself with a glance at Gîl, who was walking a few paces in front of them. "You know what I mean. That will still be easier to bear for them than hearing you proclaimed Glorfindel's betrothed, or indeed seeing you wedded to him. They could look down on you before, but now, you will gain a standing in Imladris rivaled only by that of Elrond and his children. A large part of his nobles will resent you greatly for that."

"Oh," Legolas replied weakly and flushed when he thought of the many unfriendly faces that had met him during the numerous dinners at Elrond's table. "You are probably right, but I know little about important things. There would be no reason for any of his nobles or councilors to even talk to me. And - I like my Lord's men; they do not seem to mind my presence. Fairion even wants to tutor me in swordsmanship himself from now on. I expect I will simply stay out of everyone's way and stick to my Lord's men. And maybe one day, I too will be one of them. Have you seen the sword my Lord gave me?" His face flushed with pleasure as he thought of holding it in his hands, the weight of it, the sharpness of the blade, the thoughtful decorations of beech and celandine.

“Perhaps I shall test your prowess when next we meet. It is a pity Glorfindel rendered you unfit for swordplay for now – although I am sure that he will be very appreciative of the results.” Haldir's eyes lingered thoughtfully on Legolas' chest. “But at least I am gladdened by the thought of you taking my gifts with you as well, to remember me by. Tell me, has Glorfindel shown you all of their many uses yet? You liked the little crop very much, as I remember...”

Haldir laughed softly when Legolas blushed once more.

 

~~~

Their remaining days in the Golden Wood seemed to pass at once slowly and yet too quickly for Legolas, who continued to spend much time with Fairion and Laindir, or Haldir and his brethren. After a few days, he was able to resume the work on his swordsmanship with Fairion, though they went more slowly than before, per Glorfindel's orders. The little bars of metal pierced through his nipples still felt uncomfortable and sore betimes, the barely healed wounds aching when Legolas turned or twisted too suddenly. Yet at the same time, Legolas could not deny the effect they had on him. Of course Glorfindel had always been a master of seduction, but now, even though he was still healing, a gentle touch or the merest hint of Glorfindel's breath against his skin was enough to make his nipples tighten into aching little points of pleasure.

And then there were the evenings, when Legolas invariably wound up crying against Glorfindel's throat from pain, from shame, from a helpless, instinctive fear of baring the secrets of his soul to another. Still, Glorfindel never betrayed his trust, and Legolas could not help but feel eased afterward, as if his Lord's advice, even the mere fact he was willing to listen without judging him for what he heard, was enough to lighten the burden he was carrying.

These were good days in Lothlórien; the best, Legolas thought, that he had ever known. He wore a silver ring on his finger and a fine sword at his side, both signs of the high regard in which his Lord held him. He wore small bars of gold pierced through his flesh, a sign of his Lord's desire for him; something which still awed Legolas, who had never been desired before. He had Gîlríon, whose mere existence sometimes still made Legolas feel almost sick with fear – how was he, who could not even order his own life, to bring up a child? And yet Gîl was happy, and Legolas learned more and more to trust in Glorfindel's strength and to believe in his own capacity for love. Gîl knew he was loved, there was no doubt about that, and had no qualms about demanding the same love and adoration from every stranger he met. Sometimes Legolas looked at him and wondered if this was what _he_ had been like as a child. Sometimes his heart contracted with fear and he wanted to tell Gîl to not trust so easily, to not open himself to hurt and rejection, but he could not bring himself to do such a thing. This was, after all, what he had wanted for Gîl. To not grow up as Legolas had. To walk through life with the same self-assurance as Glorfindel.

It was difficult, but at the same time Legolas felt such fierce pride in Gîl, who already made friends far more easily than Legolas ever had. He knew he would never be able to make himself damage Gîl's confidence in any way.

No, the time they had spent in Lórien had been like a dream, and now Legolas simultaneously hoped he would find the same confidence if they returned to Imladris at last, and feared that all his new-found courage would melt like snow in spring with one disdainful glance from Erestor. Yet so much had changed for the good, and he tried to hold fast to the knowledge that he had won friends among his Lord's men. He might never win the hearts of the greater part of the valley's inhabitants. He was, after all, the son of Thranduil, though disowned, and now gifted with a new name by his Lord. Even in the forest that was still the home of his heart, he had not managed to find friends. But what he had now was good, and more than he had ever dreamed of having. Was it not ungrateful to desire more?

Sometimes he felt as if he were blindfolded, stumbling along the path of life which everyone else navigated freely and with confidence – yet now he had Glorfindel to lead the way. All it took was trust in his guidance.

Thus the days in Lórien passed quickly, with walks beneath the golden boughs of the _mellyrn_, hours whiled away with Gîl who was excited about everything he saw, and nights spent in his Lord's embrace. If he could, Legolas would have chosen to stay; having first tasted of peace here in this place that was so blessedly free of the ghosts of the past. Yet leave they must, eventually.

~~~

It was still dark when Legolas woke. It was the night before they would take their leave, and for a moment, he wondered what had woken him. In dreams, too, he cleaved to his Lord's side, walking with him beneath the beeches of his father's forest that were still the home of his heart, or, more often, walking beneath strange stars through meadows of fragrant, jewel-bright flowers which must have been his Lord's own childhood memories. Now, though, he remembered not where reverie had led them, only feeling a strange sense of restlessness, and the need for reassurance.

His Lord was not beside him, and when Legolas stood, a cloud passed beyond the moon so that Ithil's light bathed his nude, passion-marked body with rays of gentle silver. A certitude grew in him then, and he quickly slipped on a simple robe. The ground felt cool beneath his bare feet when he stepped onto the dew-wet grass in front of their _mallorn_, and now, for the first time, he hesitated, thinking of Gîl. Reassurance brushed against him, a feeling of gentle, golden light and of his child asleep in his bed when he returned. He wavered, but then he thought he heard voices and curiously set out in search of them.

He walked for a while, away from the large _mellyrn_ which held _telain_ and pathways high above his head. Before him he saw the lush green of Galadriel's private garden appear as if from the mists of a dream, and he was not surprised to at last find his Lord standing with the Lady of Light before her Mirror.

What _did_ surprise him was to find them at odds with one another.

"I told you, I see no use in it! What can it tell me that I cannot learn for myself?" Glorfindel's voice was unusually cold, so that Legolas' eyes widened and he grew uncertain. Nevertheless, he made himself step closer, taking his Lord's hand as he paused by his side.

Galadriel smiled at him, easing Legolas' uncertainty somewhat as he remembered with embarrassment how he had last parted from her in this glade.

"What can it tell you? What you are afraid to see perhaps," was her only reply. Glorfindel snorted and shook his head, causing Legolas to give him another uncertain look; he had never seen his Lord nervous before.

"Afraid to see?" Glorfindel's voice was just a shade too loud, and instinctively, Legolas moved closer against him, trying to offer support though he knew not what they were arguing about. Glorfindel then closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, his anger seemed to have fallen away, and beneath it appeared a deep weariness.

"Why did you have to bring him into this?" Glorfindel asked, more softly now. "Is it not enough, the pain you caused him by what he saw? This is between you and I-"

"No," Galadriel interrupted, and her voice was stern despite her kindness. "No. If that is what you think, it is no wonder you are angered. I have no quarrel with you, Glorfindel. This is not about me. This is about _you_ – only you. I can only offer the Mirror to you; it is your choice to look. Yet – is there not anger still within you?”

“What good does it do to see what might be?” Glorfindel challenged. “Do you think I do not know exactly what my actions wrought? I am not hiding from the truth! But with what right do _you_ judge me? Have you not also shown the same arrogance for which you would rebuke me? And did the Mirror help _you_?”

“This is not about me,” Galadriel repeated. “And I have never denied the utter arrogance of my ambition when I left my home behind in search of a kingdom to rule. We were all little more than children then, filled with arrogance and dreams. I dreamed of ruling lands of my own, but never did I think that the lands we journeyed to did not belong to us; nor did I think of how its people might not desire my rulership. And yet, I learned. It was not my own ambition which made me accept my lord's hand in marriage. It was love. And I love my people, and this forest. I have now spent more time among the Silvan elves than I spent in the Aman of my childhood. Were I allowed to return, those who knew me then would not recognize me."

Glorfindel shook his head, unrelenting. "You are hardly a Silvan, Galadriel. You still shine with power and ambition, though I will admit that life has softened the hard edges. Yet all of you who live within want the same thing; to preserve the glory of this forest against the growing darkness."

"Yes," Galadriel admitted. "And that is burden enough in this Age. But what will you, Glorfindel? Glory? Power?"

"Glory -- is it glorious to bring death?" Glorfindel laughed, though there was little pleasure in it. "I do what must be done. There is pleasure in the thought of thwarting the Dark Lord's plans, though the possibility seems to grow ever more dim as the Age advances. No. There is no pleasure in bringing death, for me. Do I desire power? I am content to serve Elrond, for now. I do not desire to rule a realm of my own, though I do demand respect. Pleasure, love, a family... I take great enjoyment in these, as you well know. I am content."

"Ah." Galadriel smiled. "If such were true, you would not have heeded my call. Why _are_ you here, Glorfindel? Why this barely veiled anger, when you are content?"

Glorfindel's hand clenched around Legolas'. "Cease your games, Galadriel. You know very well that I regret what I did to him!”

Legolas was pale as he looked from one to the other. Seeing these powerful people argue made him feel helpless, much like a child who had no business observing adults quarrel. He was vaguely ashamed of feeling as he did. He was of no assistance to Glorfindel at all, and as always, hearing them talk about how he had been treated made him wish he could simply vanish, or wake up in their bed and pretend it had all been just a dream.

“If I feel anger, then it is because you have seen fit to meddle in what is between him and me. Why would I apologize to _you_ when I have wronged _him_? It is _his_ forgiveness that matters, not yours, though such a thing can never be forgiven. And before you ask – yes, I _have_ begged his forgiveness, and I would grovel on my knees before him each and every day if that was what he wanted. But I will not apologize to _you_!”

“I have not asked you to,” Galadriel replied calmly. “But see, there it is. The anger, the pride. You attack when you think yourself attacked. This show of wounded pride is brought about by one reason only – that deep inside you know that you no longer deserve the respect you so cherish. Where is your honor _now,_ Glorfindel the beloved?”

“Stop!” Legolas cried in despair, hating this situation, hating what had happened, hating that they could just talk about what had passed as if he were not even here while it felt like his heart would tear itself apart with shame and hurt and grief. “You have no right to condemn him for what you do not even truly know!”

“I do not condemn him,” Galadriel said gently and reached out to touch Legolas' cheek. “And I would not cause you unnecessary pain, Prince. Like so many, you have known too much of that already. But he carries great guilt. While you hide yours deep within your heart, his can barely be contained, turning to anger as it seethes beneath the surface. He cannot deny it. Oh, he would not hurt you, I do believe that, but all the same, denying his own guilt and shame does him no good. I cannot absolve him of his guilt; no-one can. And I cannot heal _your_ pain, as much I might want to.”

“But you think you can offer me the service of your Mirror?” Glorfindel observed bitterly. “What can it show me that I do not already know? What will it change? Have you so soon forgotten the pain and false assumptions it woke in Legolas?

“But let us end it here,” he added and raised a hand as if to ward off more of Galadriel's words. “As you said, there is no salvation to be found here, not for me, not for him. But I will see what your Mirror reveals.”

He made as if to extricate himself from Legolas, who still held his hand, but Legolas would not let go and stepped forward to the Mirror with him, gazing down at the still waters from the safety of his Lord's arms.


	17. 77

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by Beruthiels_Cats, thank you so much for investing so much time into this! *hugs*
> 
> This is it - the last chapter, at long last. It took me almost 7 years to complete this story - a year or two ago, I hoped that I'd be able to end it with chapter 70, but the story clearly had other ideas. This is almost 200 000 words now, and while I know that others manage to write that in a single year, I'm still amazed how long this got, considering that this started out as an insistent little plotbunny I wrote mostly for therapeutic reasons, to battle writer's block and self-censorship. As I said in a reply to Spiced Wine yesterday, in the many many years I've worked on this story, I've had quite a few fandom friendships grow and die, but I still love this story like no other I've ever written, and I'll never allow anything to destroy this enjoyment. And never fear, I will start to work on the sequel as soon as I've finished my story for Slashy Valentine, and though I'm hoping that it won't take another seven years to finish the sequel, by now I have ideas enough to write Legolas' and Glorfindel's story until the end of my life. ;)
> 
> Thank you to all of you who've given me your support and stuck with this story for so long! Did you know that this is the 5th most read story of the entire lotrfanfiction.com archive? *boggles* I still have a hard time to wrap my mind around that, but I'm so glad that despite my initial misgivings back in 2003 when I came up with the premise, so many of you enjoy Legolas' and Glorfindel's story! :)

The gleaming water in the silver bowl reflected the night sky above them where stars were shining, bright as jewels. Glorfindel's arms came around Legolas and a ripple disturbed the constellations mirrored in the water, though no one had touched the bowl. When the water calmed again, Legolas saw a couple standing at a beach, staring into the distance while the water lapped at their bare feet. They were both tall and stern, though there was sadness on their faces, and the golden tresses of the woman mingled with the dark hair of the man as they silently stood and watched.

Then the scene changed, and instead of the jewel-strewn beach, Legolas beheld a meadow with summer flowers, red and yellow and blue blossoms thick among the tall grass like stitch-work on a tapestry. Two fair-haired men walked among the flowers and when they stopped to face each other, Legolas saw that one of them was his Lord, in a time when he was young and carefree, although already he shone with strength and beauty and the self-assurance that never failed to rouse admiration in Legolas' own heart. The scenes changed quickly then; to ice and snow and his Lord trudging through a never-ending night with despair on his face; his arrival at what must have been the coastline of Ennor with the sun rising at his back for the first time, bright and fierce like a pennant of hope while beneath his Lord's steps, the ice receded and flowers grew.

Glorfindel arrived in Middle-earth once more, stepping from a large, swan-shaped boat with a companion cloaked in gray, though both seemed to emanate a bright, beautiful light. Then a cloak of darkness spread across the scene and when it faded, his Lord was clad in silver and gold mail, sitting atop a white charger who pawed the ground; while across the battleground, a black presence drifted into view. Coldness gripped Legolas heart when Glorfindel's foe raised his sword, and he mouthed a word in soundless fear. _Nazgûl_. The darkness at the heart of their forest who brought death and corruption and could not be vanquished even by the bravest warrior.

Once more the scene changed, and Legolas was overcome by fear when he recognized himself. He was kneeling – kneeling in his father's throne-room. His heart contracted with a sudden, helpless terror as he saw his son running towards him, there before his father’s throne. Then, suddenly, the mountains of his father's strong-hold were beneath him, the river that led to Laketown, and at last, as he beheld the human settlement for the first time, he saw the mountain behind it glow red and yellow like the brightest gold as a dragon rose from its perch, coming towards the town with the promise of death in its maw.

Scenes of battles followed, changing so quickly that Legolas could not have said with certainty who was battling whom. Once, he thought he saw his Lord's men, then the men of his father's realm facing – were those _dwarves_? There was a black ship sailing down a river, a great city of Men preparing for war, and then his Lord, resplendent in anger, golden hair streaming behind him like a battle standard as he forced a silver charger forward. The powerful animal raced a set of heavy doors threatening to close before Glorfindel could break through. The stallion's hooves struck sparks from the stone as it thundered across a bridge and then they were inside, the doors falling closed behind them with resonating finality as Legolas became aware with sudden shock that this was the court to his father's Halls. The stallion snorted and shook his head, pawed at the ground while Glorfindel faced the warriors of the Greenwood which quickly surrounded him, staring down at rows of raised spears and bows with unrelenting arrogance.

“No!” Legolas cried. Before him, the stone of his father's halls disappeared until at last, the water in the bowl was dark and quiet like the night sky once more.

“No! Promise me you will never do that!”

Glorfindel pressed a kiss to his brow, arms tightening around him in voiceless reassurance.

“I could not bear it, my Lord! If anything were to happen to you – if anything were to happen to Gîl! My father will never change! Promise me that you will not ever go there!”

“Hush!” Glorfindel turned Legolas in his arms, cupped the beautiful, fearful face with both hands. “This means nothing. The future is not set in stone, Legolas. If this is indeed part of the song, then it will come to pass; but how or why, we cannot know. This may never happen, my dear – or it might happen, and a moment later, something else could occur. Your father has reason to desire my death now, but who can say if that will change? Thranduil is not wholly without reason.”

“But what reason can there be for what we saw?” Legolas leaned into Glorfindel's touch, feeling out of his depth once more. Why was it that whenever he felt as if he was slowly regaining control over his life, something happened to pull away the ground from beneath his feet?

“That is not the future I want,” he admitted softly, too shaken by what he had seen to care about how he sounded. “So much battle, Lord, so much danger... I am not made for such things. There are no great deeds in my future, you must know that! I will never effect anything of importance. All I want is to be by your side, and for Gîl to be happy. I am not made for glory, or fame, or matters of importance. I want a quiet life by your side, Lord. I will never desire to return to my father's Halls out of my own free will, nor would I ever willingly expose Gîl to the scorn he would find there.”

“My dear, you are no coward. You have a great sense of justice; you would never run from a fight if you saw someone who might be in need of your help. And sometimes, it is not about glory. Sometimes, it is simply doing what is right, because there is no alternative. I am sick of war, Legolas. I am sick of death. I am sick of myself, of what I have allowed myself to become. You cannot deal death and expect it not to change you. Therein, perhaps, lies my greatest failure.”

“You are a good man,” Legolas said, his voice tremulous as he looked up into Glorfindel's eyes, remembering what had been, yes, and yet, and yet...

Tears spilled over when he saw that Glorfindel, too, was crying, was kissing him, and then was holding him close, needing him too, needing him and loving him just as much as he needed and loved his Lord.

“I will try to be, from now on,” Glorfindel whispered into his hair and then just held him. Legolas could not have said how long they stood there, but at last, Glorfindel let go of him, giving him another smile; one that filled Legolas' heart with the warmth of sunshine.

"Those were not answers," he then said with a deep sigh. Galadriel smiled and fleetingly touched his face.

"Questions, then? Sometimes, it is not the answer which eludes us, but the right question."

Glorfindel shook his head. "I am sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" She was still smiling at him, patient and gentle, and yet he knew her strength equaled his own, if not surmounted it. Glorfindel felt weary. This was not the right time for a battle of wills. And in truth, he did not want to quarrel with Galadriel. He had little of his childhood left. Truly, there was only her now. His sword, his horses, his jewelry were but trinkets; Galadriel was the living and breathing remnant of another time, another Age. Inside her heart, she still carried their people's youth, and Glorfindel ached for the loss of their innocence. Galadriel had hardened too, as had he, and looking at her, tall and strong and beautiful as the stars, he wondered if he would ever see her brother again, walk hand in hand with him through the blossoming meadows of Aman.

"I have always known I would be needed. That there was a battle waiting to be fought on these mortal shores. See how much he took from us. From all those who crossed the ice with us, who is now left here but you and I? I knew I was needed. This is why I returned, though my father and my mother fear for me, though your brother is walking a shore far from here. I wanted to give what I had to this land: my strength, my sword, my loyalty, because I knew it would be needed. That is what I have seen. Battle after battle, it will come; it is waiting for all of us. "

"And will you fight this battle?"

Glorfindel shook his head. "Before, I was alone... But now, I _cannot_ think only of myself. If this is a reminder of what is at stake, then I can only say that I am aware of it. Truly, no one could be more aware of it than I am. And yet, my loyalty is divided now. It must be. It belongs to my child, and to Legolas. I have sacrificed much to this fight, because I knew there was no other way. I still see no other way, but if ever the time should arrive when I realize I cannot give any more... I will never sacrifice Legolas or Gîl, even if Manwë himself asked it of me.”

“No one questions the service you have done,” Galadriel said, stern and beautiful still, and Glorfindel felt regret when he thought of the daughter she had lost. And yet... They called him noble, yet he was not so noble that he would willingly accept the death of his son. Much he would sacrifice, but not this, even if a day came when they would call him a coward. If ever it went so far in this darkening Age that all seemed lost, when the enemy was marching on Imladris and there was no hope left... This time, he could no longer choose a hero's death.

“I swear to you,” he murmured, thrusting his hands into Legolas' wheaten locks, “I will never lead you into inescapable danger. Rather than risk losing you and Gîl, I will take you to the Havens if danger comes, and sail to where there is peace and rest still for us, though these shores be ravaged by the Dark One's hate and rage.”

“Is this what you are afraid of? That the future will demand a choice?”

Glorfindel frowned at Galadriel's question. “No,” he said at last. “No. I have made my decision and truly, I would not be the man I am if it were any different. Certainly you must see that for me, there _cannot_ be another choice. And I do not say that I will flee from any and all danger. But if ever there should come a day upon me like that morn of Tarnin Austa, then know that what I was lauded for then shall not again come to pass. I am no longer free to choose an honorable death, for death it will be, and now I must _live_ for them.”

“You think me afraid,” he then continued. “Perhaps you are right. I have done a great wrong, one that cannot be undone, no matter how much I might wish it. I see the extent of my arrogance now. Is it not ironic that in recognition of my exemplary life, I quickly left Mandos' domain and returned to these shores, only to _then_ prove that the Valar's judgment of my fëa's worthiness had been entirely wrong?”

“So... it is judgment you fear?”

“Yes. Not here, for most of those who would dare judge me have no right to do so. Yet who knows what the future might bring? The way west is not barred for me. This much I know. But if I do indeed return one day to the land of my childhood..." Glorfindel sighed. "I do not fear judgment. I know I deserve it. And I would never deny my guilt in this. Arrogant, they call me, but I tell you this: if we ever sail, I shall scale the heights of the Pelóri, climb Taniquetil itself and fall to my knees before Manwë to grovel for his mercy, pride be damned. I love my family more than my pride."

"No! You will do no such thing!"

Legolas’ soft voice interrupted their discussion, so that both turned to look at him in surprise. It was easy sometimes to forget Legolas was there even, as had happened now, if they were talking about him. Too often Legolas was too fearful of ridicule to offer his own opinion, and Galadriel, though she felt a keen empathy and a deeper, niggling awareness that the lovely youth was more important than he believed himself to be, was almost embarrassed to find that she, too, had fallen into that trap of disregarding him for his silence.

"Why would you kneel before Manwë? You have no right do to that! You have not wronged him. You have wronged m-me!” Legolas' voice shook. “He cannot absolve you of what happened. This is.... This is between _us_!"

Glorfindel sobered, finding Legolas so shaken. "Forgive me," he said, drawing Legolas close so he could bury his face in his silken hair, feel the fast tattoo of the youth's heartbeat against his chest. "Forgive me, I did not think. You are right, of course. I was thinking only of myself, of what _I_ feel, though I should be thinking of what _you_ feel. Once more I am trying to make this about me, when it is about you. Ah, will I ever learn?”

There was true despondency in his voice, and Legolas could not help but reach out for him then, cup his face, kiss him. “All I want is to be allowed to be with you. If you are not allowed to return, my Lord, I will not care. I will be just as happy to live by your side in Imladris, in some forgotten Nandorin forest far in the east, or in the icy dales of Forochel.”

Glorfindel chuckled. “I have seen enough of ice and snow to suffice for another two or three ages. But I would rather go and live as a common soldier under your father's rule than risk your life. Rest assured, I will allow no one to come between us. Not Elrond, not your father, not even Manwë himself.”

~~~

Legolas had not been able to believe it when he had first heard he would be allowed to join his Lord on the journey to the Golden Wood - and how strange it felt now to think back to that day. Such a short time ago it had been, and yet how much had changed! He remembered well how he felt then, little more than a child by Glorfindel's side who had no choice but to do as he was told. Yet now, while he knew that he would never equal Glorfindel in accomplishment and renown, he was no longer the cringing child of the past. A part of him would always seek to obey Glorfindel's wishes, because there was nothing more rewarding than Glorfindel's approval of him and yet, there was another part of him now; a part that saw a path before him that would lead to better things, and which he strove to follow under Glorfindel's guidance.

No. Young and inexperienced he might still be, but he was no longer a child; nor did Glorfindel treat him so. Glorfindel regarded him as his equal, save for the games they both enjoyed and already, when Legolas thought back to what life had been like before he left Imladris, it seemed a strange dream, like a completely different life. He was no warrior, but with Glorfindel by his side, he could believe that there was strength hidden within him, too. Legolas patted Lainiell's neck absently, pleased to note how the warmth of the Golden Wood had hastened the shedding of her winter coat. No longer would Haldir be able to smirk at his shaggy pony; though smaller than his Lord's powerful charger, her coat shone like silk in the light of the morning sun.

Legolas raised his hand with a smile when he discovered Haldir with his brothers. Haldir, as wicked as always, took his hand and raised it to his lips for a kiss, eyes gleaming at him in provocation so that Legolas groaned and laughed at the same time. "Haldir!" he chided, though he did not know what else to say, for after all a traitorous part of him did enjoy Haldir’s attention, irritating though it might be.

"We both know you are going to miss me, Prince." Haldir smirked, and for a moment, Legolas wished that he were daring enough to lean forward and kiss Haldir to wipe that smirk from his face. His Lord would not even mind he thought, but would be amused - but he was not quite so daring yet.

"You could come visit us," he instead said softly, "see for yourself if I am making progress with your beautiful gift." He ran an admiring finger down the smooth, golden _mallorn_ wood of the bow strung on his back. When he had visited the market with Haldir, he’d had eyes only for the swords, but this too was a weapon, and carrying it filled him with pride and exhilaration. "Maybe then, my Lord would let you have the kiss you so crave..."

He laughed at Haldir's expression, wondering a little at himself. To think that he would indeed feel enough at ease with Haldir to tease him... There was no one at Imladris whom he trusted as much as trusted Haldir now, and for a moment Legolas wondered if there ever would be. But then he remembered his Lord's men and brightened. He had their friendship too, and he felt more than at ease with Fairion and Laindir. No, this strange new feeling of being someone who was worthy of attention, of friendship, was not something limited to Lothlórien, peaceful though the forest was. He would know it too in Imladris. Fairion would not cease to be kind to him just because Erestor sneered at him. He would have friendship in Imladris as well, even if nothing had changed in their absence, and he knew that it had not. The greatest part of the valley's inhabitants would still loathe him for who his father was. And yet, he now wore Glorfindel's ring on his finger and carried the warmth of his oath in his heart.

He made his goodbyes then, not only to Haldir and his brothers, finding that the saddler and his wife had also come to see them off. That, too, they did not have in Imladris, or so he thought; realizing all of a sudden that he had not truly experienced life in the valley, apart from his Lord's suite of rooms. Maybe that would change, too. Maybe one day, he would be able to walk as freely, as fearlessly through Elrond's home as he had walked among the _mellyrn_ of the Golden Wood.

When it was time to take their leave from Celeborn and Galadriel, both of them kissed his brow in blessing and his hand rose to touch the yellow jewel that hung over his heart. He tried to thank them, humbled by all they had done for him – his father loathed the both of them for their ambition, and yet they had shown nothing but kindness to him, giving him such gifts... Maybe, he thought, his father had been as wrong about the Lord and Lady of Lórien, as they were wrong about his own people in Imladris. Glorfindel had once told him that many of the hurtful words he’d said had been lies, used to hurt and humiliate him. So much that was said seemed to be designed for a similar aim. Did Erestor truly believe Legolas’ folk were of lesser worth, just because they accorded the life in their forest higher worth than the Noldorin accomplishments in the forges? Did his father truly believe Galadriel and Celeborn were ruled by greed and desired to annex his kingdom, or did he say it because he disliked them, or as part of a political game Legolas was too naïve to understand?

Legolas chided himself for wasting the last minutes of their stay in this fabled realm with such thoughts, yet these things worried him. Sometimes it seemed as if everything people said carried a hidden meaning which he was perpetually at a loss to decipher.

He took a deep breath, forcing those thoughts away for now. Lainiell gave an impatient snort, well aware that all the chaos surrounding her meant that they were about to start on a journey. Legolas allowed her to make her way to Asfaloth’s side, who snuffled at her mane until she nipped at him in reprimand.

Gîl, too was wide-eyed and excited, sitting before Glorfindel on the stallion’s broad back. Legolas could not help a smile at the picture they made. Glorfindel _shone_, resplendent in all his finery as if a tapestry depicting the heroes of old had suddenly come to life - and of course, his Lord was indeed such a hero of another age given life once more. The morning sun gleamed on his curls of gold that framed the strong, flawless face, and though he was the very image of potent virility, there was a smile on his lips and the warmth of love in his eyes, his arm tenderly curved around Gîl’s small body while he listened to the child’s excited words.

This was what made it worth it, Legolas thought. All of it, all that had happened, even the most terrible experiences he’d suffered. For this, it had been worth it, no matter what they might say about him at home. He had done the right thing.

Glorfindel smiled at him too, so that Legolas heart constricted with helpless love and need. Glorfindel was iron dominance softened by golden tenderness, and Legolas could not think of anything better suited to his own needs and desires than this noble alloy. Glorfindel took his hand then, raised it to his lips with a smile, and Legolas laughed, flushed at the publicity of his Lord’s display, and yet so very pleased by it too. Then there was a sudden commotion and when Legolas turned towards it in curiosity, the smile died on his lips.

His brother. Had he truly thought he would be able to escape Galuron’s censure? Legolas had hoped, but as always, Galuron cared naught about his hopes or dreams. How the news of their betrothal must have angered him...

Asfaloth snorted and pawed the ground, shaking his head in anger at the sudden change of his master’s mood. Glorfindel cursed softly and relaxed the reins he had tightened instinctively, patting the stallion’s neck in apology. Still angered, tail and spotless coat twitching with annoyance, but held in check as much by Glorfindel’s will as by the reins, Asfaloth pranced towards where Galuron stood with two of his friends.

“Have you come to congratulate your brother on his betrothal?” There was menace in Glorfindel's voice and Legolas was all too aware that whatever reason made Galuron decide to come, this wasn't it.

“Do you think you deserve congratulations for this, Legolas?”

Legolas flinched despite himself when Galuron addressed him. He felt alternately hot and cold, sick with shame because he knew what would come now. This was what always happened. He would be humiliated and insulted; would find no words to defend himself. What else was there now for him but to try and bear it with as much honor as he could and trust in Glorfindel's strength?

“You know yourself that you deserve none of that,” Galuron answered his own question. “Do not fret; I have little desire to spend time in your company. I have come here for one reason only...as a warning. You might enjoy how he forces people to scrape and bow to you, and everyone can see that your service in the bedchamber is well rewarded with trinkets and silk. He can make people call you _prince_ here, and put braids into your hair which you know are a crime for you to wear. He plays a game, and you are but a pawn. You will never be a prince of the Woodland Realm, do you hear me? Come anywhere near the Greenwood and we will cut off your impostor's braids. And even if all of our family were wiped out, your bastard will _never_ sit the throne of the Greenwood! Do you hear me, Legolas? Your bastard is no prince of the forest, no matter what you claim. Take one step across our border and all of you will die for the shame you have brought on yourself.”

“Shame?” Legolas replied softly. “That I have a son, whom I love more than you can imagine? I will never be ashamed of that. Nor am I ashamed that I love Glorfindel. Eru himself has recognized our love. Neither you, nor indeed death itself shall take me from my Lord's side now.”

He sighed. “I love the Greenwood. I truly do, more than you can know. But there is nothing special about me, Galuron. Nothing _princely_. I have always known this. I shall never be a leader of men. I shall never do great deeds. My name will never be sung. I know _all of that_, and I have no pretensions to greatness. Rest assured, I will never try and gain any sort of influence in my father's realm. And I would rather lock my son into his rooms than allow him to ever set foot into a realm where he would encounter people like you.”

Asfaloth snorted and shook his head, eyes rolling so that Galuron visibly paled, though he refused to step aside. “I have warned you,” Glorfindel then said, so formidable in his anger that even Legolas shivered. “I have warned you repeatedly. Have you forgotten who I am? Run home to your father, tell him your lies, but know this: I am not someone you want to anger, boy. Where are the great deeds _you_ have accomplished? Have you faced a dragon? Or one of the Dark Lord's demons, spewed forth right from the maws of Angband? Who are _you_ to talk of shame? Legolas has shown greater honor and courage than you ever will. And one more thing I will tell you, another piece of intelligence to send your father if you will. The gift of foresight was given to me, and I tell you this: _You will not sit the throne of Mirkwood, nor will your brother. But the day shall come when all the folk of the wood will sing the name of Legolas in praise, and Mirkwood shall not be restored to its former glory until this has come to pass._”

Glorfindel's words resonated among the golden _mellyrn_, and all talk fell silent. There was a power to them which touched even the hearts of those too far away to hear his pronouncement, and Legolas shivered, seeing for a moment as if through a golden haze a cavalcade of wood-elves, setting out from his father's forest with himself in the lead.


End file.
